


i believe when i fall in love with you (it'll be forever)

by orphan_account



Series: haikyuu: the pantheon [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Eventual Smut, F/M, Falling In Love, Flowers, Fluff, Language of Flowers, Light Angst, Love at First Sight, Marriage Proposal, a VERY loose adaptation of hades and persephone, daishou being clueless? it's more likely than you think, daishou falls in love in 0.05 seconds, mentions of violence and waterboarding, not in the smut though don't worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2020-01-12 01:01:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18435782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “The third rule, and arguably the most important one: do not stay in the mortal realm for longer than necessary. Daishou knows the rules, and he sticks to them. He only breaks rules if he sees that it benefits him.That is, until he spots a pretty girl passed out in a field he’s passing through.”Daishou, ruler of the Underworld, rarely leaves his domain. But when he does, he chances upon a cute goddess—and there is no going back after that.





	1. anthurium

**Author's Note:**

> the title of this fic is from that [Stevie Wonder song.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H--_-gPX3Nw)
> 
> honestly, i intended to write another fic for this au, but this idea got its claws on me and refused to leave until i wrote it. for more information about this series as a whole, please read the [series notes!](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1330517) enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anthurium: symbolises hospitality, happiness and abundance.

When Daishou Suguru, lord of the Underworld, dead and snakes, decides to take a stroll through the mortal realm, he knows to keep in mind three golden rules: firstly, don't get involved in mortal affairs, for a god’s interference could upset the natural unfolding of events in the mortal realm. Secondly, do not allow any mortal to recognise him. Technically, he figures since no living mortal has ever seen him they wouldn't know what he looks like anyway, but the kings of Olympus are rather strict about this rule. Since he sees no benefit in breaking this rule, he abides by it.

The third rule, and arguably the most important one: do not stay in the mortal realm for longer than necessary. You see, his godhood—essentially his life force—is tied to his own realm, the Underworld; hence, if he were to stay away from the Underworld for too long, he would run the risk of his godhood weakening. While he wouldn't _die_ the way mortals do, he would likely fade away, which would mean existing as mere shadow, a mere echo of the powerful immortal he once was.

Daishou knows the rules, and he sticks to them. He only breaks rules if he sees that it benefits him.

That is, until he spots a pretty girl passed out in a field he’s passing through.

 

* * *

  
Well, she certainly _is_ cute—what with her long brown hair, rosy cheeks and smooth skin—but there are more pressing matters at hand. Daishou hurries to her side and kneels next to her, taking her wrist and feeling her pulse. It’s faint, but it is there.

There is something else about her that Daishou can't quite put a finger on. It’s the aura she gives off—it’s different from a normal mortal’s. A demigoddess, perhaps? No, her aura is even stronger than that. Maybe she's a minor goddess. Daishou wouldn't know—being the ruler of the Underworld means being bad at keeping up with the happenings up in Olympus.

If she is a minor goddess as his intuition is telling him, she probably is from Olympus and thus he should return her there. However, there is a certain rooster-headed god of war he really would rather not see (they have, uh, _history_ ).

Hence, instead of doing the responsible god thing of dropping off lost goddesses at Olympus, he picks her up and teleports back to his palace in the Underworld.

He blinks and shakes his head to get rid of the vestiges of nausea that comes with teleportation (there is a reason why he doesn't use it often). He glances down at the girl in his arms. She is considerably paler than she looked when Daishou first saw her in the field, and his panic spikes.

“Quick, someone!” he shouts.

At once, Takachiho—one of his technically-dead servants—pops up. “What's up, boss?”

“Prepare a room for this girl, and be sure to prepare the best one. Take care of her.” Daishou knows how to treat a lady, after all.

“Finally got yourself a lady pal, huh, boss?”

“Ha, I wish, but it’s not like that—I just stumbled across her while I was in the mortal realm.”

“Riiiight,” Takachiho says, a shit-eating grin on his face. “You just happened to stumble across a cute girl in the mortal realm and you decided to take her home while she's unconscious.”

Daishou glares at him, not liking what he's insinuating. “Whatever. Just go do as I told you to, or I'm cutting your pay.”

Takachiho sighs. “Yes, boss. I’ll be sure to prepare the finest room for your not-girlfriend.”

Ignoring the last comment, Daishou deposits the unconscious girl in his servant’s arms before returning to his throne room. As worried as he is about her, he still has work to do.

His throne room is as wide as it is long. The walls are painted a glossy black and have skulls engraved into the surface, as well as snakes curling around the sconces built into the walls. A carpet, red as blood, rolls out underneath him as he strides towards his throne. For some reason, it insists on rolling up when he isn't around and unrolling when he returns.

He settles in his throne—a cold silver with sharp spikes jutting upwards on the high back of the throne and soft cushions to keep his back and butt comfortable—and snaps his fingers, summoning his work.

Work mostly consists of lots of paperwork (even a god can't escape the mundane filling out of forms and dealing with stupid bureaucratic red tape), as well as staring into his spheres that give him a view of what's going on in the three main sections of where the dead are sorted into: the Fields of Asphodel where the mortals who didn't do any significant bad or good go to; Elysium for heroes and others who achieved greatness in their lives; and the Fields of Punishment for the especially heinous mortals. He watches as mortals in Asphodel drift aimlessly around, heroes graze leisurely on the shores and fields of Elysium, and sinners suffer horrors unimaginable in Punishment.

One hand propping his face up on the arm of his throne, he tries to focus on coming up with a new punishment he should introduce in the Fields of Punishment. The mental image of the unconscious girl insists on resurfacing in the forefront of his mind, but he valiantly pushes it aside for the umpteenth time. Let’s see, he has already done thumbscrews, waterboarding, and leaving tantalisingly juicy fruits dangling just out of reach of a starving sinner’s hands. What else…

_Think, think, think. That rooster-headed bastard said you already reached your peak, and you're not going to prove him right, right?_

_I wonder how she's doing._

Daishou shakes his head. Trying to drown himself in his work obviously isn't working, as his thoughts would inevitably wander back to the girl.

Well, there isn't any point in trying to get any work done when he cannot concentrate. He places his spheres and stacks of half-complete paperwork on the table beside his throne, then sweeps out of his throne room/office. He glides up the stairs to the third floor, where he knows Takachiho placed the girl (he knows everything that goes on in his palace, obviously), and pushes his way into the room.

It is easily one of the largest and most luxurious rooms he has in the palace, after his own bedroom. Unlike his throne room, the walls here are painted a soft pinkish-white, decorated with paintings of the mortal realm: rivers, fields, gardens, you name it. The dull greyish light of the Underworld outside somehow filters through the windows as soft rays of sunshine, pooling on the gleaming marble floor and making it nearly blinding to look at. Normally, the potted succulents standing guard around the bedroom are withered or just barely alive, given how hard it is to grow things here, but now they are in full bloom, the vibrant reds and oranges and pinks dotting the room.

Finally, he lays his eyes on the girl sprawled on the large bed in the center of the room. On the bedside table is a bowl of pomegranates. They look fresh, thankfully. Two windows frame either side of the bed, basking her in the strange warm sunshine that definitely should not belong in the Underworld. He gazes, fascinated, at the way the light captures and brings out the gold in her brown hair. His heart performs several somersaults in his chest, and he can't look away no matter how hard he tries.

 _What are you doing, Suguru?_ he scolds himself. _You've never acted like this before._

Pushing all thoughts about his heart performing gymnastics aside, he approaches her and, with a snap of his fingers, makes a plush armchair materialise next to the bed. He settles in it, content to just watch her for a while. The colour has returned to her face. That's a good sign; she must be recovering well from… whatever it was that made her pass out in the first place.

She turns over in her sleep to face Daishou, her small hands twitching. _Too cute, she's too cute._ He feels his face grow hotter and hotter the longer he stares at her.

 _Stop that, you're being a creep,_ he chastises himself. Reluctantly, he tears his gaze away from her and makes his paperwork appear. Now that he has seen for himself that she is alright, he decides to tackle the rest of his work. This way, he can be a productive ruler of hell while also keeping an eye on the unconscious girl.

He's almost done putting his signature on the final form when he hears a soft groan from the bed, and he looks up from his paperwork so quickly he nearly gives himself whiplash.

On the bed, the girl pushes herself up into a half-lying half-sitting position, stretching and letting out quiet sighs. Rubbing her eyes, she sits up and announces, “I'm hungry.”

She glances around before her eyes fall on the bowl of pomegranates beside her bed. Her hand reaches out and grabs a pomegranate, and too late does Daishou realise the mistake his servant made when setting up this room.

“Wa—wait!” he cries out just as she takes a bite of the fruit. He freezes and can only watch helplessly as she chews with cheerful obliviousness. When she opens her mouth for another bite, his body finally starts to work again. He lunges forward and knocks the pomegranate out of her hands and snatches her wrists before she can take another one.

“Ehh, what are you doing?” she exclaims, staring up at him with wide eyes. Damn, her eyes are really pretty, round with flecks of gold in the warm brown and—no, _focus._

“You shouldn't have done that,” Daishou says. His heart thumps frantically against his chest, likely from panic. “Now you're stuck here.”

“Where—where am I?”

Daishou sighs and shakes his head. “The Underworld. Didn't you know, eating food from the Underworld when you're not of the Underworld traps you here?” Though he supposes he can't fault her for not knowing where she is. The fruit shouldn't have even been by her bedside in the first place. He really needs to have some stern words with his servants later about how to treat guests.

He is expecting a horrified gasp, or maybe for her to burst into frightened tears, sobbing about not wanting to be stuck here in hell and wanting to return home to the much nicer, brighter and warmer Olympus or wherever she's from.

What he doesn't expect is an airy “Oh, okay then!”

He blinks, staring at her and wondering if the fruit messed with something in her head. “‘Oh, okay then’? _That's_ your only reaction to being _trapped in the Underworld?_ ”

She shifts on the bed, a sheepish expression on her face. “I mean, there really isn't anywhere else I'm dying to be in, anyway. I hope I'm not imposing on you.”

He rolls his eyes, though he can't help but think there is something cute about her thinking she's imposing when he was the one who brought her here in the first place. “You can't be imposing when you're trapped here.”

“I suppose you're right,” she giggles. “You must be Lord Daishou Suguru, right? The ruler of the Underworld and all that.”

“Yeah, that's me, though you can drop the honourific, since you're gonna be in my care for, uh, a long time. Or you can even call me Suguru—either one works…” He trails off when he realises he's babbling. Embarrassed, he clears his throat and adds, “As you have probably guessed, I was the one who found you and brought you here. And you're, um…” He surveys her appearance, but nothing about her strikes him as someone he should know.

“Mika, the goddess of spring!”

“Oh.” That… doesn't ring any bells.

Mika’s face falls. “You… you haven't heard of me?”

“That's not—I mean, I haven't, but it’s my fault not yours,” he rushes to reassure her. “Being down here in the Underworld means I'm pretty bad at keeping up with who's the god or goddess of what in Olympus.”

“Oh, that makes sense! So, what do you down here, Daishou-sama—Suguru!” she hastily corrects herself when he raises an eyebrow at her.

“Just, uh, usual Underworld stuff. Like, keep track of the dead, make sure the souls get sorted to where they're supposed to go, maintain the different sections of the Underworld and the like.”

Gods dammit, what's _wrong_ with him? He usually has such a polished silver tongue, so why is it failing him now? Mika must think he's a huge idiot, he bemoans to himself.

“Oh, that sounds interesting!” Mika chirps, her eyes bright with interest. She shifts closer to him, and only then does he realise he's still holding her hands. Hastily, he lets go of her and shoves his hands into the pockets of his robes. “Do you have anyone to help you?”

“Nah, it’s usually just me, the dead and my servants around these parts.” Ugh, he must sound like such a lonely loser down here, especially compared to all the gods, goddesses and spirits that live on Olympus.

“Your servants? Are they living mortals? Minor gods?”

He shakes his head, though he can't help but feel pleased at her curiosity. “Neither. They're the honourable dead I specially handpicked to be my aides.” That… that doesn't sound as cool as it did in his head—it just sounds like he has a bunch of zombies waiting on him hand and foot. For the first time in his immortal life, he finds his lifestyle as the ruler of the Underworld weird and creepy.

Mika, on the other hand, doesn't seem to be sharing the same sentiments. Instead, she offers him a bright smile. “Wow, you must be really powerful then! That's pretty cool.”

“You—you think so?” he stammers, rubbing the back of his head. “You, a literal spring goddess, think the overlord of the Underworld is cool?”

“Yeah! I’ve only ever been on Olympus and occasionally the mortal realm my whole life, ‘cause people are always telling me that the Underworld is a scary place. Lord Kuroo especially—he’s always telling me that the god of the Underworld is a mean, sly guy, but you seem really kind.”

Just hearing the name of his rival makes Daishou’s blood boil. The smile on his face twitches as he changes the subject. “Well, that’s enough about me. What about you?”

“Me?” Mika asks blankly.

“Yeah, what do you do?”

“Oh.” She glances down at her lap, fidgeting a little. “It’s not as cool as being the supreme lord of the Underworld. I work under Lord Ushijima—he’s my, um, boss, I guess? I don't know. He usually acts like a boss, but he occasionally has some oddly fatherly moments too…”

Daishou doesn't blame her for her confusion. The entire existence of the pantheon is confusing; no one is sure whether they are actually related (with the exception of the rooster-headed idiot and his husband, both of whom used to be mortals but became gods, regrettably, and they know they're definitely not related). Personally, he would rather not be related to any god or goddess, _especially_ Mika for… reasons.

“Lord Ushijima, huh? Never knew the god of the harvest could have ‘fatherly’ moments,” Daishou deadpans. Ushijima’s endless reserves brutal honesty, self-confidence and unshakable focus makes it pretty hard for Daishou to imagine him as anything _fatherly._

Mika laughs, though it sounds strained. She doesn't elaborate any further on her relationship with Ushijima, so Daishou decides to ask her something else.

“Say, what were you doing in the—”

_GRR._

“Oh my!” Mika’s hand flies over her mouth, her cheeks tinting pink. “I'm sorry, that was my stomach. Turns out I'm pretty hungry, huh? Maybe because _someone_ knocked my pomegranate out of my hand.” She eyes him accusingly, to which he shrugs.

“You would be trapped here if you ate that, though I suppose it’s too late now.”

“Yeah, maybe you should have taken the pomegranate away _before_ I ate it.” Her voice, however, lacks any animosity or sarcasm it should hold. Is… is she _teasing_ him?

He glances away and clears his throat. “I, uh—let me get someone to bring you some nectar. Since you're already here, there’s no point in having you starve till you fade away. If you'll excuse me.”

He gets up, and with a snap of his fingers his armchair disappears. He gives her a quick bow before heading to the door.

“Hey, Suguru-kun?” she calls, and he turns around. Seated upright in the bed with the covers pulled up to her lap, she looks tiny and vulnerable on the enormous bed. Instincts he never knew he had immediately become full-on alert: protectiveness, care, and… desire. Hot, blinding desire that simultaneously makes his heart swoop and knees weak.

“Y-yeah?” he replies, hating how hoarse his voice has suddenly become.

“You're coming back after that, right? I wanna talk to you more.”

“Oh, um, sure. If—if that's what you want.” _Smooth criminal, Daishou, smooth criminal._

She smiles and waves jauntily to him as he shuts the door behind him, his heart pounding way too hard after a simple conversation. A conversation, that's all it was. Nothing to get so riled up over.

Dammit, if she keeps this up for the rest of the eternity she's trapped down here, Daishou doesn't know how he's going to survive it.

 

* * *

 

It seems like keeping a spring goddess in his palace really helps to liven the place up.

For instance, the few plants he has in the dining hall are normally dying or dead just like most of the plants in the Underworld—except now, they have never looked greener or more alive before. Flowers bloom where there were once ugly, coiling weeds. In fact, there are flowers blossoming where there weren't any flowers before—all along the walls, the ceiling rafters, and in vases Daishou never knew he had.

The only thing he can do is stare at the goddess twirling around in the center of the room, dressed in a simple gossamer dress, glowing a soft gold. With each twirl of her dress, more flowers bloom, and berries even start to emerge from some flowers.

“Uh, Mika?” Daishou ventures hesitantly. If she is in the middle of some strange spring-goddess ritual, he shouldn't interrupt.

Mika pivots on her heel and greets him with a sunny smile. “Good morning, Suguru-kun! How do you like my work?”

“Oh, um, it’s really beautiful! I've never had so many beautiful flowers and fruits in my palace before. But may I ask what all this is for?”

“Thanks to your hospitality, I managed to regain some of my strength, so I thought I ought to show you my gratitude. Having withered plants in your home is no way to live—I figured I should help you liven up your place a bit.”

With a small laugh, he approaches her and places a gentle hand on her head. “I certainly appreciate you livening up my place. Are you going to continue giving my palace a makeover, or can I take you out?”

“Ooh, where to?” Mika asks eagerly, her eyes sparkling.

“If you're going to be trapped down here, I might as well show you around—that is, if you want to.”

“I'd love to!”

He smirks. Score. Finally, he can feel some of his usual smoothness return to him. He holds his arm out to her, though he doesn't expect her to take it. “Well then, if you insist.”

She wraps her hands around his bicep, shuffling closer to him. Heat spikes through him from where her hands touch him to the rest of his body: his face, his core, his—he shakes the thoughts away and focuses solely on leading her out of the palace.

He leads her out through the west gate of the palace, since that's where the _nicer_ part of the Underworld is. Although the rest of the Underworld is nearly the same—the same coolness, dim lighting, and the light sulphuric smell—the air here is considerably lighter, the ground smoother. While the stalactites and stalagmites everywhere else are mere rocks, the ones in this swanky spot have precious jewels embedded in them: diamonds, pearls, rubies, sapphires and the like.

They weave their way through the rocks. Daishou keeps a hand on her head, gently pushing it down when nearing particularly low-hanging stalactites. Having accidentally hit his head on those damned stalactites before, he knows how much it hurts.

“Say, Mika,” he says, a sudden thought occurring to him. “What were you doing in the field when I found you? Didn't you say you stayed on Olympus?”

“Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you about that.” She laughs sheepishly. “I, uh, had a disagreement of sorts with Lord Ushijima.”

“Did he hurt you?”

“No, no! It was just…” She sighs, kicking a stray pebble out of their way. “We disagreed on how exactly the season of spring should be run, when and where it should happen—a lot of blah technical stuff. He was trying to mansplain to me how I should do my job, so I got fed up and stormed out of Olympus. I mean, I guess he _did_ have a point, being my boss and all…”

Daishou frowns. “That's still no excuse to hurt your feelings.”

Mika shakes her head. “It’s just the way he is. I know he wasn't trying to hurt my feelings. There were other things going on Olympus too. Like, Lord Oikawa was really worked up about something about a mortal man trying to 'usurp' him or whatever, and Lord Kuroo wasn't helping things by constantly antagonising him.”

Daishou snorts at that. “Yeah, that definitely sounds like something that rooster-headed bastard would do.”

Just then, they arrive in front of a tall, grand gate. Mika’s eyes widen as she drinks in the scene beyond the gate: white sandy beaches spread as far as their eyes can see, a stark contrast to the gloom and darkness of the rest of the Underworld; tall palm trees wave at the occupants of the beach when a wind brushes by. Behind the beaches, sprawling villas and luxurious tents spread themselves over the expansive land. Men, women, children and several others play beach volleyball, chase each other around on the sand, and enjoy the finest wine the Underworld provides under the shade of the trees standing guard around them. Invisible servants flutter around, handing out scones, fruit and drinks to the people, refilling their empty glasses and giving them freshly ironed linen to clean themselves with. It’s a majestic and beautiful scene, and Daishou can't help but feel proud of what he and his servants have accomplished, even if he did have to obtain the wine through some rather underhanded black market deals (or maybe _especially_ because he had to do so).

“Wow, this is amazing,” Mika breathes, clearly awed.

Daishou lets that comment stroke his ego for a moment before replying, “This is the zone of the honourable dead. What you see here is Elysium, where they live in luxury to reward them for the exceptional good they did when they were alive. Beyond Elysium is the Isles of the Blest. Only mortals who have thrice reborn and achieved Elysium all three times are permitted in the Isles of the Blest, an eternal paradise.”

Mika’s jaw practically hits the ground. “That truly is astonishing! How are they reborn, though, may I ask?”

“Come.” He takes her hand and leads her south to a river. “This, Mika-chan, is Lethe, the river of oblivion. It looks harmless, but if you take a swim in it you'd lose all your memories. The mortals who wish to be reborn into the mortal realm have to drink of this river to remove their memories of their previous life.”

“That… wow. But why’s the name so weird? It must get annoying to pronounce.”

Daishou chuckles sheepishly. “Yeah, it does. I was… _really_ drunk when naming the rivers.” He blames his servants. They should have known that he's somewhat a lightweight.

Mika giggles, her eyes glinting mischievously. “You were _drunk_ when naming the oh-so important rivers of your dark and scary lair, Suguru-kun?”

“You're never gonna let me live this down, are you?”

“Not a chance!”

He sighs, but upon seeing how much fun she's having he can't find it in himself to even _be_ annoyed.

As he leads her away from River Lethe, Daishou glances down at their clasped hands and realises he still hasn't let go. Even though now they're away from the river and thus the danger of her falling in and losing her memories is no longer present, he can't bear to let go. Her hand is small, delicate and fits perfectly in his.

 _Since when were you such a sap?_ he snaps at himself. _Don't go and turn into that sappy idiotic god of war now, Suguru._

“Say, how many rivers are there here?” Mika asks.

“Five.” He holds up his free hand, because like some idiot he forgot she doesn't _need_ a demonstration of what ‘five’ looks like. “There's Acheron, which is the river of pain. It surrounds the entire perimeter of the Underworld, so to get into the Underworld the souls need to cross it.”

“Ehh? How do they get across?”

“There's a man with a boat who ferries them across. Touching or even just hearing the voices in the river causes pain to the souls, though, so they have to be careful.”

“That… that sounds brutal,” Mika mumbles. Her excited expression has faded away, replaced by a more pensive one.

“Yeah, this isn't one of the friendliest places in the universe.” He quickly clears his throat, afraid that he has scared her. “Um, anyway, the river Acheron splits into two rivers: Cocytus and Styx. Cocytus is made out of the tears of the damned, so if you go close enough to the river you can hear the lamentations of the damned souls.” He spots the furrow of her eyebrows and the downward tilt of her lips, so he asks hesitantly, “Uh, this isn't really the most upbeat topic, so if you wanna change subjects—”

“Oh no, it’s fine!” she rushes to reassure him. “I genuinely want to learn about this place you live in.”

“If… if you say so. Where was I—oh yeah, the river Styx, the other branch of Acheron. It’s the river of hate, a real nasty piece of work.”

“Yeah, I'd bet.”

He flounders for words for a moment. “Mika, the Underworld really isn't the nicest place to be. If you’d like to return to the palace—”

“Suguru-kun, what's that?” She points straight ahead of them, where the air is colder and more sulphuric than the air in the zone of the righteous dead. Two gates made of blackened steel loom in front of them, the spikes at the top jutting high into the cavern ceiling.

“The Fields of Asphodel,” Daishou answers with more reluctance this time. “We’re in the zone of the indifferent dead now. This is where mortals who have done neither any significant good nor bad end up in.”

“So what do they do there?”

Daishou eyes the throng of mortals beyond the gates. Souls of the indifferent loiter around the barren fields, their eyes glassy and their expressions vacant. This zone is by far the largest; every half-century he has to expand the land to accommodate all the souls. Luckily, the land of the Underworld is infinite or he would have a major issue of overcrowding on his hands.

“Not much,” he replies curtly. “Mika, I think we should go back—”

“Styx, Acheron, Lethe and Cocytus,” Mika interrupts once more. “Those are four rivers. You said there are five, so what's the fifth?”

Daishou hopes she doesn't hear his sigh. “It’s Phlegethon, the river of fire.  It’s a little ways beyond here, but I think we had enough for today.”

“A river of _fire?_ I wanna see it!”

“Mika, trust me, you really don't want to—hey, where are you going?”

Mika, stronger than she looks, has ripped her hand out of his grip and is dashing ahead, eager to see this river of fire. She clumsily dances around the stalagmites and nearly trips over rocks in the path, shortening his immortal lifespan with each almost-fall. He gives chase, and thanks to his longer legs he manages to catch up just in time to grab her arm right before she falls into the river Phlegethon.

“Be careful,” he chides her, pulling her back. Below them, Phlegethon hisses. Acidic bubbles dot the surface of the furious red surface. “If you fall in, it would hurt a lot, like radioactive acid poured all over you.”

“Why do you have such a river?” she gasps, horrified.

The accusation in her tone stings him, but he hides his hurt behind a pleasantly neutral expression. “Uh, it doesn't kill anyone, if that's what you’re wondering.” Though those who are forced to dip in it do end up wishing they were dead, and that says a lot considering that those people are usually already dead.

“That's not what I asked, Suguru. You were so happy to show me around the Underworld, but now you keep dodging questions and insisting we return when it was _your_ idea to come out here in the first place.”

This time, he flinches. “… Fine. If you really wish to know, the river Phlegethon is designed to keep the dishonourable souls that end up in the Fields of Punishment in a state where they can continuously take torture for the rest of eternity. Some souls are even condemned to swim through it for all of eternity as punishment.” Sometimes he picks the souls who end up swimming in Phlegethon based on what their sins were; other times he chucks them there when he can't think of any other punishment for them.

Even in the dimness of the Underworld, Daishou can tell that the rosiness in Mika’s cheeks has drained away. She opens her mouth, but before she can say anything a cacophony of anguished screams cuts through the air.

“Someone’s screaming!”

“Yeah…” Daishou knows all too well why they're screaming.

“I have to help them!”

“Wait, Mika—”

But once more, she takes off. Cursing himself for his ‘brilliant’ idea of showing Mika around, he chases after her.

But as she approaches the gates to the Fields of Punishment, her pace slows down and she comes to a halt. Her hands shake by her side, and her knees tremble. He doesn't need to see her face to know she's crying. He quickens his pace and steps in front of her, shielding her from the horrors in the zone of the dishonourable dead: mortals being waterboarded, having their hands chained to a rock as an eagle pecks their eyes and innards out, being whipped by a chain of spikes. The tortured cries, as well as the rain of blood and other body parts is nothing new to him, as he’s the one who designed these methods of punishment, but to Mika who has been sheltered in Olympus her whole life…

He pulls her into his arms and rests his chin on the top of her head, quietly listening to her sobs, letting the trembles of her body rock through his too. It tears him apart to hear her in so much anguish, but he knows there is nothing he can do about it. He rubs slow circles into her back as her sobs gradually die down and her breathing evens out.

“Suguru,” Mika mumbles into his chest, “can we go back, please?”

The fragility of her voice makes his heart ache even harder. He bends down and picks her up princess-style. “As you wish,” he murmurs.

Daishou takes a shortcut back to his palace. Not exchanging even a peep, they enter through the eastern wing and end up in one of his many lounges, where he deposits her on a sofa. He sits down next to her, his elbows balanced on his thighs and his face in his hands.

“Suguru,” she says, her voice a strange mix between pained and cold, “that's horrible. The Fields of Punishment, Asphodel, heck, all the rivers—are Elysium and the Isles of the Blest the only places here that don't cause some sort of suffering?”

Daishou winces. The fact that he's the one who ordered this suffering makes her words hit even harder. “Yeah, it is horrible, but I only punish people who _truly_ deserve it, like murderers, abusers, rapists and the like. And on the flip side, I reward the people who deserve it handsomely, like you saw when we visited Elysium.”

However, it doesn't seem like his words have the effect he hoped they would. If anything, her entire demeanour becomes even colder and stiffer than before. _Dammit._ A million and one plans run through his mind—what can he say to appease her? What should he avoid saying? With her expression about as open as a tightly padlocked gate with a hundred men standing guard in front of it, he can't read her.

“I can't believe it,” she mutters, her hands shaking on her lap. “I can't believe that the kind god who saw me carried me to his palace and gave me shelter and food without asking for anything in return is the same god administering such atrocities on those poor souls.”

He flinches again. At this point, drowning in Phlegethon would hurt a hell lot less. He places a hand on her arm in an attempt to placate her, but she snatches her arm away like his touch burned her.

“Mika, please, I know it’s difficult and painful but—”

She rises to her feet, her back facing him. “I’ve had enough. I'm going back to my room.”

He watches as her figure disappears upstairs, feeling like his heart has been forcibly ripped out of his chest and tossed into the river Acheron.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pro tip: don't take the person you like on a date to the rivers of hate, pain, the damned, oblivion or fire, or to a place called the fields of _punishment_. it will NOT be a good time.
> 
> one of my betas pointed out that the part where daishou spots mika dancing around and thinks she's performing some spring-goddess ritual can be made into a 'is this a pigeon' meme, and since i am all about making memes i have made [this.](https://docs.google.com/presentation/d/1AtfMnh9ysxeEBncslnkHQVuyLiWD2d48SxTLjeSgmLY/edit?usp=sharing)


	2. jasmine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jasmine: symbolises love, beauty and sensuality

Daishou, the ever-so responsible ruler of the Underworld, ends up sulking in his throne room, ignoring the piles of work that need to be done. In his frustration, he's smashed the sphere that gives him a look into the Fields of Punishment to bits, but after each beating it reforms itself. It’s strange: plants die all the time in the Underworld, but his spheres live unceasingly.

“Girl problems, boss?” Takachiho asks, his cheery voice a sharp contrast to Daishou’s despondent mood. He pops open a bottle of wine and pours a glass for Daishou.

Daishou takes the glass but feels no desire to drink it. “Whatever.”

“I feel ya, boss. When I was still alive, I had these gods-awful fights with my wife all the time. The aftermath—it was tough, especially when she refused to even make eye contact with me. I mean, I guess it got better when we grew older ‘cause her memory worsened and so she forgot the bad, only remembered the good, and—”

“Look, if you're just going to go down the memory lane, do it somewhere else,” Daishou snaps. “I'm _busy_ here.”

“Yeah yeah, busy sulking like a kid.” Takachiho holds his hands up defensively when Daishou shoots him a poisonous glare. “Just trying to help you sort out your fight with your new lady pal.”

“And what sort of advice were you trying to give me, exactly?”

“Hey, the first step to help someone is to sympathise with them, let them know they're not alone.”

Daishou rolls his eyes. “Yeah, with you talking my ear off I know I'm definitely not alone. Now are you going to give me some _actual_ help?”

“You just gotta say the word, boss!” Then Takachiho’s voice takes a more serious tone. “Real talk, though, the best way—the _only_ way—to get the ball rolling is to just talk to her.”

“Been there, done that, blew up in my face.”

“Well, yeah! She was still heated up from her anger—of course it blew up in ya face. You gotta give women some time to cool down after a fight.”

Daishou contemplates this. Well… he supposes there is _some_ truth in Takachiho’s words, even if it sounds somewhat gendered. Reluctantly, he realises that maybe his undead servants knows more about women than he, an all-powerful immortal god, does. Swallowing his pride is difficult, but he really misses Mika. It feels like either days or years have passed since their fight (it’s hard to tell when you're immortal), so swallow his pride he does.

“Fine. How _exactly_ should I go about it?”

“I got just the presentation for you, boss.” With a snap of his fingers, a projection materialises behind Takachiho. The words on it read: _‘How to Make Up with Your Lady Pal, Takachiho-style’_. What kind of magic this is, Daishou doesn't know and doesn't want to know. “Welcome to my workshop, titled: ‘How to Make Up—’”

“Yes, I can read,” Daishou grumbles. “Can you get to the point already?”

“Luckily, I had in mind my lovable but impatient boss when preparing this workshop,” Takachiho hums cheerily. The projection thing zooms through a series of words and comes to a stop on a… ‘page’ that reads: _‘Watch Your Body Language’_ , complete with a sound of air whooshing out of a balloon. “Watch your body language! Since you're a man and she's a woman, you're bigger and taller than her, which can come off as intimidating. So don't, like, tower intimidatingly over her or do things that make you look bigger, like put your hands on your hips or—for the love of all the gods—T-pose.”

“Uh, ‘T-pose’?”

“This!” Takachiho thrusts his arms out horizontally and perpendicular to his body. It looks nothing short of absurd.

“… Right. Rest assured that I _definitely_ won't be doing that in the event I do speak to Mika.”

“Next nugget of wisdom!” Once more, Takachiho snaps his fingers. This time, the words _‘Listen to Her!’_ appear on the projection, accompanied by the sound of something blowing up. Daishou wonders if this workshop is some sort of cruel and unusual punishment for upsetting Mika. “Listen to her! Like, there's a reason _why_ she's upset, so hear her out and try to see things from her perspective. You may not agree with her, but if you love her you would try for her sake anyway.”

Daishou nearly sloshes the glass of wine all over himself. “ _Love?!_ Who said anything about—”

“Final nugget of wisdom!” Takachiho interrupts Daishou with far too much glee. For what is hopefully the last time, the words in the projection change. Now it reads: _‘Try to Come to a Compromise!’_ “Try to come to a compromise! Even if you're lovers, friends or friends of the benefits-attached variety, you don't have to agree on every single thing. But what you ought to do is understand each other’s point of view. If you end up agreeing, great! If you don't, you should agree to disagree, put the disagreement aside and move on. Unless, of course, your disagreement is over something like ‘abusing children is bad’. Then there's no compromise. You gotta skedaddle outta there, boss.”

“Right…” As eccentric as this talk has been, Daishou has to admit Takachiho has given him some genuinely sound advice. “I’ll go talk to her now. Th…” He grits his teeth. His pride as an immortal cringes at the idea, but he believes he owes Takachiho one. “Thanks, Takachiho.”

“Always at your service, boss!”

“Lose the weird projection thing, though.”

“Aww, boss, that’s the highlight of my workshops!”

Daishou hands his untouched glass of wine back to Takachiho before striding out of his throne room and upstairs to Mika’s room.

Figuring it isn't polite to enter a lady’s room without permission, he knocks on the door. “Mika, it’s me.”

“What do you want?”

“Can we talk, please?”

Silence follows, before a clearly reluctant “Fine” resounds through the door.

Daishou takes a deep breath and hurriedly combs his hair with his fingers. He needs to look presentable if he wants to win her back. Heart pounding in his throat, he opens the door and enters.

Mika is seated in the bed, reading a book of some sort. Vines of flowers hang around the room like streamers. Daishou has never had any idea how threatening flowers could look until every single one of them turns to face him. Even though they don't have actual faces, it feels like they're glaring at him, piercing his soul with cold judgement. As for the goddess herself, she refuses to even look up from her book.

He treads over to her bedside, makes a chair appear and sits on the edge of it. Several moments of harsh, palpable silence pass, and he's starting to wonder if he should say something when she beats him to it.

“Say, Suguru?”

He immediately sits at full attention. “Yes?”

“If I asked you to stop doing… doing _that_ to the souls in the Fields of Punishment, would you listen to me?”

A white-hot knife lodges itself in his chest, stabbing cleanly through Daishou’s heart. He licks his lips and forces words to come out of his mouth. “Mika, listen—”

“Please don't try to sweet-talk me. Just answer me.”

“I… “ He takes a deep breath. “I would certainly _listen_ to what you have to say, but ultimately I am unable to do as you wish. Look,” he rushes to add when a dark look passes over her face, “there needs to be balance in the universe. Just like how those who have done good in their lives are rewarded, those who have done bad need to be punished. If there were no consequences for their actions, mortals would have ravaged their world by now—well, even more so than they already have. I truly am sorry, Mika. I would do anything you ask of me, _anything_ at all, but this one wish of yours I am unable to grant.”

He hangs his head low. He doesn't expect her to forgive him or anything like that. As the ruler of the Underworld, he knows better than anyone else the necessary cruelties he has to execute as part of his job. Someone as sweet and gentle as the goddess of spring would obviously have trouble understanding this, and he can't fault her for that. He would rather her stay innocent and idealistic than have her eyes opened to the horrific reality that is his domain, his home, his entire existence as a god.

Mika sighs. “I… I understand.”

Daishou’s head snaps up. “Pardon?”

“I'm not saying I'm _okay_ with the suffering being inflicted on those souls—on anyone. But… I understand where you're coming from. Having been sheltered on Olympus all these centuries, I never realised or bothered to find out what things _truly_ were like in the mortal realm, as well as here in the Underworld. All _I_ did as a spring goddess was make flowers bloom, fruits grow and birds chirp like I was in some fairy tale. And, well, I suppose there _are_ some people who deserve eternal punishment.” She holds up the book on her lap. “This book is about the most heinous sins committed by mortals. It’s… horrific.”

His throat goes dry. “Mika, why were you reading a horrible book like that?”

“Because I wanted to understand you. I wanted to understand why you said some people deserved the punishment inflicted on them. And I do now.” She puts the book down on her bedside table. Nestled next to cute little succulent plants, the dark leather-bound book makes quite a contrast. “Ah, I just realised! I'm so sorry, Suguru-kun.”

He stares at her, nonplussed. “I'm pretty sure you didn't do anything wrong.”

“I did! I was pretty much trying to tell you how to do your job, even though Lord Ushijima doing that to me made me so upset I stormed out of Olympus. And in this case it’s even worse because I'm not even your boss or anything like that! I'm such a hypocrite, I'm so sorry.”

Daishou can't help it. Seeing Mika’s red face and her hands swinging frantically as she apologises—it’s too adorable. Belting out loud peals of laughter, he joins her on the bed and pulls her into a tight hug.

“Su-suguru-kun?” she stammers, her voice muffled against his shoulder.

He laughs and squeezes her lightly. “Don't worry about it, okay? I understand where you were coming from. Honestly, I don't blame you if you don't like it here. I get that it’s kinda, really, creepy here.”

“I mean, I guess the rivers of fire, hate and whatnot aren't the most friendly-sounding, but…” She looks up at him, a shy smile quirking at her lips. “You're really nice and kind, Suguru-kun. I can't hate a place that has such a wonderful god residing in it.”

Daishou averts his gaze. The room has suddenly become too warm for his liking. There is a bizarre, fluttering feeling in his chest he’s pretty sure he has never felt before… but he supposes it is not entirely unwelcome.

“Suguru-kun? Are you okay?”

He rests a hand on the crown of her head, feeling more nervous yet content than he has ever been. “Yeah, I'm just glad you're here.”

 

* * *

  
Daishou isn't sure whether mere days or uncountable years have passed—time is strange when you're immortal—but soon they fall into a routine. In the morning, they would have breakfast together. Gods technically don't need to eat as often as mortals do, but it’s a fun activity that also gives him more time to spend with Mika.

Afterwords, Daishou would drag himself to his throne room to get his work done, while Mika would spend her day reading the endless galore of books in the palace or remodelling the entire place, decking every nook and cranny with flowers he has never seen before. Every time he thinks he has seen all the flowers the universe has to offer, she makes a new one grow right before his eyes. As the god of the Underworld and the dead, he would never have thought he’d care much about flowers, but he supposes Mika has a way of making him interested in new things.

They spend their evenings together, chatting about what they were up to during the day, what new mortals Daishou welcomed into the afterlife, what random facts Mika learned from her reading. He finds that the evenings are his favourite part of the day.

One evening, however, Daishou finds himself buried up to his nose in work. For some reason or another, more mortals than usual have died today, which means he has more souls to judge and sort, as well as a higher pile of paperwork to clear. By _gods_ does he hate doing paperwork. Normally he tries to take a shortcut, find some loopholes to cut his workload, but unfortunately there don't seem to be any shortcuts or loopholes in this particular stack of paperwork.

“You should take a break, boss,” Takachiho drawls. He's supposed to be polishing the floors, but instead he is watching Daishou with a sly grin on his face. “Don't you normally take evenings off so you can spend time with your lady pal? Oh, by the way, congrats on reconciling with her.”

Daishou runs a hand over his face, slumping low in his seat. “Don't want the work to pile up and steal even more evenings from me,” he grumbles. His mood has soured to the point where he genuinely starts to consider just burning all his paperwork and forcing the new influx of mortals into rebirth so he wouldn't have to sort them into Elysium, Asphodel or Punishment.

“Still, boss—”

Just then, the door creaks open, and Mika pokes her head in.

“I figured I’d find you here,” she says by way of greeting. “Is it okay if I enter?”

Instantly, Daishou’s head snaps up and his posture straightens. “By—by all means! Takachiho, clear my work. You know where to put them.”

“Aye, aye.” With the stacks of paperwork floating behind him, Takachiho shoots Daishou a wink before vanishing from the room.

“Oh, I'm sorry,” Mika says, shuffling awkwardly into the room. “Were you busy? I can come back later if it’s better for you.”

“No worries, no worries. I was almost done for the day anyway.” Lies, but it doesn't matter when Mika has taken the initiative to visit him when he couldn't make the time to see her this evening. He flicks his wrist, and his throne stretches into a loveseat. He pats the spot next to him, making sure it’s properly cushioned before inviting her over.

She settles beside him, her hands smoothing out the crinkles in her skirt. “You have a lot of work to do, huh? It mustn't be easy, being in charge of so many souls.”

He tries not to delight in how much she's stroking his ego, whether she realises it or not. “I mean, no job is easy. But at least for all the hard work I'm doing, I get to cash in a favour from the kings of Olympus.”

“Ehh, really? Have you used that favour yet?”

“Nope. I’m waiting for the perfect opportunity.”

She nods sagely. “That's smart. You wouldn't want to waste something like that, after all.”

“Yeah” is all he murmurs before a comfortable silence befalls them. He shifts closer to her in what he hopes is in an inconspicuous manner, stretching his arm on the back of the throne behind her and watching her quietly. This close to her, he can see the upward curl of her eyelashes, the faded freckles on her cheeks, the little flecks of honey in her eyes. She's so close to him, and they have talked so much, yet he realises he doesn't know all that much about her other than the fact she's the goddess of spring.

“You've seen my life here,” he says. Thankfully this time, he sounds as suave as he does in his head. “You know what I do, so now tell me about you.”

“Hm?” She turns to face him, pink dusting her cheeks. “What do you wish to know about me?”

“Anything. Your hobbies, likes, dislikes, what your life was like on Olympus—like I said, anything.”

“Umm…” Mika nibbles on her lower lip, and heat pools in Daishou’s core. It’s kinda cute, the way she seems so startled by his attention. “I guess it’s pretty obvious, but I like tending to flowers. It’s not just my job—it’s really fun!”

Daishou listens, enamoured, as she goes on about the delights of pouring all her heart and soul into helping flowers grow and watching them blossom into great beauties. The way she names and describes each individual flower is incredibly endearing too—her eyes light up, her hand gestures become animated, and the sheer joy and excitement rollicking off her in waves is infectious.

“I—I’m sorry,” she says, rubbing her head sheepishly. “I tend to ramble when I get on the topic of flowers.”

“Please don't apologise,” he says smoothly. “It was extremely fascinating to learn about the different types, names and functions of flowers, even if some of the names are a bit of a tongue-twister.”

That elicits a laugh from her. “Yeah, they sure are. You need to be, like, the patron god or goddess of flowers to be able to name them all off the top of your head.”

“Which, by great coincidence, you are.”

She laughs again, her eyes crinkling and cheeks flushing. “Indeed, I am.” She pauses, as if thinking, before speaking again. “Another thing I like… is light shows.”

That definitely piques his interest. “Light shows?”

“Yeah! Like fireworks, lanterns, that kind of thing. They're just really pretty, you know? I love it whenever it’s springtime and mortals hold festivals for me, because there’ll be lots of fireworks and lanterns and what-have-you at such festivities.” There is an undercurrent of sadness and wistfulness in her expression now. “Ah, it would be nice to get to see fireworks again…”

Despite his exhaustion from work, the gears in Daishou’s mind start spinning rapidly, concocting a plan, sorting out logistics and other little details.

Abruptly, he gets up from his throne. “Please excuse me.”

“Oh, where are you off to?”

Daishou grins at her. “Just need to sort some things out,” he says, deliberately keeping it as vague as possible. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

Since Mika wants to see fireworks so badly, he sure as hell is going to deliver.

 

* * *

  
“Where are we going, Suguru-kun?”

“A walk, since we've been cooped up in the palace for a while now.”

“ _You_ were cooped up in the palace,” Mika points out. “I was out in your garden, trying to revitalise it.”

“And I appreciate your hard work, Mika-chan,” Daishou replies. “For all your hard work bringing spring to my palace, I thought I’d thank you with a surprise.”

As they talk, they stroll past the hissing flames of Phlegethon. He notices her shoulders stiffen a little when the cries of the punished pierce the air, but she doesn't say a word about that. He takes her hand and quickens his pace, not wanting her to stay in the zone of the dishonourable dead any longer.

The hissing of Phlegethon’s waters fades into the distance behind them. In this area between the zones of the dishonourable and indifferent dead, only the sounds of their footsteps on the uneven surface and the deceptively peaceful flowing of the river Styx punctuate the atmosphere.

“Ooh, what kind of—ehh, what's _that?”_ Mika suddenly cries out, pointing at something to their east.

Daishou cranes his head and peers, then grins when he spots what she's staring at. “That's Nohebi, the guardian of the entrance to the Underworld.”

“Why do you have a _three-headed snake?_ ” Mika demands.

“Uh, to guard my lair? He makes pretty good company, too.” Mostly because unlike a certain talkative servant, Nohebi can't speak.

“Okay, but why not a dog? Dogs are cute, even if they like to pee on the flowers I lovingly cultivated.”

Daishou scoffs incredulously. “A three-headed dog, seriously? Then I’d have to potty train it, take it for walks and discipline it.” An image of a litter of three-headed puppies eagerly greeting dead mortals at the entrance crosses his mind, and he shudders. “Besides, a dog would totally ruin the image of the Underworld being dark and scary and all that.”

Mika giggles. “I don't know, the mental image of you with a pet dog is kinda cute.”

“Oho?” His ego swells at her words. He leans down into her space, smirking. “Are you calling me cute, Mika-chan?”

Her face goes crimson. She ducks her head and whacks his chest lightly. “As—as I was saying, dogs! Dogs make good company too. Plus, they're loyal, fierce and cute, depending on the breed you get. They also—”

“I don't want to hear about dogs—I want to hear more about you apparently thinking I'm cute.”

“Stop it!” she whines, pushing him.

He barely feels any real force from her, but he pretends to stumble just to humour her. “If it makes you feel any better, I think you're cute too.”

Mika freezes. “You—you think I’m—”

“Ah, that's our stop,” Daishou hurriedly cuts in before she can finish that thought.

They stop outside the gate of Elysium. Even from here, they can hear the sounds of music, laughter and conversation from beyond the entrance. With a flourish of his wrist, the gate swings open to let them in.

“What are we doing here?” Mika asks. “Isn't this the place where the honourable dead go to?”

“Yep. They’re holding a festival here, so I thought I’d bring you here.” Daishou leaves out the fact that he was the one who suggested the idea of a festival to the souls in Elysium in the first place (thankfully, they were so eager to hop on to his idea they didn't ask any questions). Saying something like that might give her the idea she owes him something, and he would rather avoid that.

“Oh, that’s so sweet of you, Suguru-kun!” she exclaims, her eyes lighting up. “Is it because of what I told you the other day—the stuff about festivals and fireworks?

“Well, you could say that inspired it,” he mutters. He casts a glamour over them so they can enjoy the festival in peace without the honourably dead mortals gawking at them. While most of them barely bat an eye upon seeing Daishou, seeing the goddess of spring would definitely attract attention. “The fireworks come later, though. In the meanwhile, would you like to check out the rest of the festival?”

Mika smiles up at him, brighter than any firework. “I would love to.”

Hand in hand, they stroll through the throngs of mortals—children running around, friends comparing the prizes they won from games, a dog trotting alongside her master, couples eating together, strolling, laughing and canoodling in places where they think others won't spot them.

Daishou watches Mika with amusement as she “oohs" and “aahs” over a stage performance that consists of a skit, a heartfelt ballad and a dance item. After spectating the performance, they procure food filled with nectar as they continue wandering around Elysium.

Other than food stalls, there appears to be game booths too. Daishou spots no less than five men who, after playing and winning an archery game of sorts, choose their prizes and give them to their women companions. He notices that the women’s expressions brighten upon receiving the various gifts. He glances down at Mika and decides that he too shall try his hand at this archery game.

“Ooh, good luck, Suguru-kun!” Mika says encouragingly. “I believe in you.”

Daishou smirks, grabbing a quiver of arrows and a bow. The objective of the game is simple enough: the arrow should hit the target, and hitting different zones rewards him with different amounts of points, which increases as one hits closer to the bulls-eye. With his godly strength and aim, this is an easy task. He nocks an arrow, aims and fires, one after another in rapid succession. It doesn't take long before all the arrows in his quiver are embedded deep in the target.

“Con—congratulations,” the mortal running the stall stammers, his eyes wide. He leads Daishou and Mika to a stall beside the range, where all manners of jewellery and riches line the shelves. “Here, sir, pick any prize you like.”

“Mika-chan, tell me which one you'd like,” Daishou says.

Mika hums as she bends at the waist to examine the prizes on the bottom shelves, then tiptoes to survey the ones at the top. Finally, she points at the shelf at Daishou’s eye level. “That one. The necklace with the emerald on it.”

“As you wish.” He plucks the necklace off the shelf. It’s a pretty necklace—while the chain is a simple gold, the emerald pendant that coils in the shape of a snake, reflecting different shades of green depending on the angle it's looked at, is what truly grabs the eye. “Would you like to wear it now?”

“That would be lovely.” She turns around and lifts her hair up, exposing the back of her neck to him. He freezes, entranced by the little curls of hair tickling the nape of her neck, as well as the smooth texture of her skin. Briefly, he wonders what it would feel like if he were to place his lips there—

_No, focus._

After willing the sudden tightness in his pants to go away, he unclasps the necklace, gently draping and fastening it around her neck. His fingertips brush against her skin, where goosebumps chase after his fingers. _Cute, too cute._

Once he's done, Mika spins around, grinning. “How does it look?”

The snake pendant, which looked pretty on the shelf, is positively breathtaking when nestled on the patch of skin the low neckline of her dress barely covers. Daishou swallows. “You're beautiful, Mika-chan.”

He notices the sudden darkening of the sky above them, and he remembers why he conceived the idea of this festival in the first place. “Oh, it’s time.”

“Time for what?”

“Your favourite part.”

Daishou takes her hand and leads her to one of the beaches nearby. After casting a glamour around them to conceal them from prying mortals, he turns to her with a flourish and smile. “Tell me what fireworks you want to see, Mika-chan.”

“Can it be anything?” Mika asks, wide-eyed.

He nods. “Anything at all. All you have to do is ask.” He sends up a few golden sparks just to show off a bit, relishing in the way her jaw drops in awe. It honestly is amusing how easily impressed she is, considering that she too is a goddess.

“So, like, even flowers?”

Daishou laughs. He should have expected this. “Yes, Mika-chan, even flowers.”

She perks up. “Okay, then! Can you do, um… how about red carnations?”

He nods, and with a snap of his fingers, bright red fireworks in the shape of carnations go off in the sky. She gasps and claps her hands in delight.

“Anything else?”

Mika presses a finger to her lips, as if in deep thought. “What about daisies?”

Another snap of his fingers. This time, white sparks with gold in the center illuminate the dark sky alongside the red carnations. Once more, she gasps, awed, and he gets the urge to make even more fireworks just to enjoy her reaction.

“How about a third flower, ma’am? All good things are done in threes, no?”

“A ranunculus!” she chirps, breathless.

Daishou stares blankly down at her. “Okay, the daisy and carnation, I know—but you're really testing my knowledge of flowers with the ranunculus thing.”

Mika smirks, a cheeky glint in her eyes. “Giving up so easily, Suguru-kun?” she teases.

“Of course not. But, uh, perhaps describe to me what they're supposed to look like?”

However, instead of describing the flower with words, Mika grabs his collar, tugs him down and presses her forehead against his. An image of what he assumes is a ranunculus emerges in his mind. Flustered, he accidentally causes a shower of random red sparks to explode alongside the addition of the ranunculus flower-firework in the sky.

“Was that a good description?” she asks, her face the picture of innocence.

Daishou runs his hand over his face, trying to chase the blush away, and mutters, “Yeah, it was. Do you want any more fireworks?”

“This is more than I can ask for, honestly. Giving me a place to stay even though it was my fault I ended up trapped here in the first place, taking me to a festival, winning a gorgeous necklace for me, and now putting on fireworks for me—I can't possibly ask for any more.” She glances down at her feet, fiddling with her dress.

He blinks, surprised. “Sure you can. I told you I would do anything for you, didn't I?”

“It's just that I—I don't want to just keep taking from you and not give you anything in return.”

Daishou sighs. He places a hand on the crown of her head and rubs it gently. “Don't say such things, okay? Even though it was an accident, your being here—it’s more than enough for me. Though, I suppose, I would like to ask you for just one thing.”

She looks up at him eagerly.

Daishou holds a hand out to her. “Would you care for a dance?”

Mika curtsies to him with a small laugh before taking his proffered hand. His free hand clasps her waist while hers rests on his shoulder. With the sound of the fireworks going off above them and the crashing of waves against the shore as their music, they dance their night away. Their feet glide smoothly across the sand like it's the marble floor back in the palace. Daishou twirls her, dips her and holds her close, as their bodies move perfectly in sync to the beat of the music they’ve created. Laughter fills the cool air around them.

Above them, the fireworks go off automatically in an endless stream, dancing across the surface of the black sky. Every time a firework fades away, another of a different colour and brighter luminosity takes its place. It truly is beautiful—fitting for a gift to the goddess of spring.

“Where did you learn to dance?” she asks breathlessly. He can hear the smile in her voice.

“Natural talent, obviously.”

Daishou lets go of her hand, and without much difficulty, he hoists her up by her waist. She lets out a surprised squeak, her hands flying to grasp his shoulders for balance.

“Suguru-kun!” she gasps through her laughter. “You surprised me!”

He grins. “Looks like I'm full of surprises.”

Given their height difference, this is the first time he has to look _up_ at her. With her figure carving a silhouette in the colourful night sky, he has to admit the view is _magnificent._ Nothing, no mortal, immortal, flower or jewel could ever compare to the beauty in his arms.

“Suguru-kun?” Mika pokes his nose. “Are you okay? You have this weird, spaced-out look on your face.”

Daishou blinks, snapping himself out of his daydream. He places her back down on the sand, though he can’t bear to let go of her just yet. “Oh, I'm fine. Best I’ve ever been.”

“If—if you say so.”

 _I truly am a greedy god,_ he thinks wryly to himself as he pulls her body flush against his, enfolding her in his arms once more. The warmth of her body permeates through the layers of their clothes. Her head is tucked snugly in the spot under his chin, against his chest, like it was made specially for her. Everything—the warmth of their bodies contrasting the cool seaside air, the sparks flying above them, the way she fits in his arms—feels so right, and yet he finds himself wanting more. More of her, more moments tucked under a beautiful night sky, in a spot on the beach just for the two of them—he could spend forever like this and it still wouldn’t be enough to satisfy him.

But for what is perhaps the first time in his immortal life, he doesn’t dare ask for more, not when she’s so content and peaceful and warm.

If this is good enough for her, then it is good enough for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> flower glossary:  
> \- **red carnation:** pride, love and admiration  
> \- **daisy:** innocence, purity, loyal love  
> \- **ranunculus:** "i think you're attractive"


	3. snapdragon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> snapdragon flowers represent grace and strength, but their negative connotations include deviousness and deception.

After the night at the festival, it’s business as usual for Daishou. To make up for the time spent on preparing for the festival, he holes himself up in his throne room, trying to get through the massive piles of work that have accumulated over the past weeks or so. Before he realises it, the weeks and soon months slip by like sand through his fingers.

Today, he has sorted thirty-two souls into Asphodel, fifteen into Punishment and ten into Elysium. This statistic is pretty par for the course—there is a good reason why Asphodel takes up the most space in the Underworld. He wonders what he says about mortals that a large majority of the dead end up drifting aimlessly in Asphodel, while the villas in Elysium are begging to be filled.

When his quill slips out of his hand due to his mounting exhaustion, he decides he is due for a break.

He wonders what Mika must be up to. Without realising it, his lips have quirked upwards into a smile. That tends to happen whenever Mika crosses his mind, even more so after the festival. If he stops to think about it, he can still picture the shower of lights reflected in her eyes—bright, intense and breathtaking.

Languidly, he leaves his throne room and strolls into the back garden, where—as he suspected—he spots Mika twirling among the bushes and trees. Before she arrived, his garden looked terrible as did the other plants he attempted to grow in his palace. He didn't even know why he bothered in the first place.

But as Mika dances—her hands twisting elegantly and her legs moving fluidly like the grass is her dance floor—and sings a tune he doesn't recognise, weeds shrink away, wilted stalks perk up, and a myriad of colourful flowers like the stars in the night sky bloom around them. For a moment, Daishou forgets to breathe, forgets to blink, enchanted as he is by the sight of her moving with gentle grace. The soft golden glow around her like a halo brings out the beauty in the garden he has never seen up until this moment.

“I see you're busy remodelling my garden,” he says, trying to sound as casual as he can.

Mika pivots on her heel, greeting him with a smile that stretches all the way to her eyes. “No offense, Suguru-kun, but while you yourself are cute, your garden _really_ was in dire need of work. This—all the weeds and dying plants and grass that obviously haven't been watered in forever—is no way for a garden to be!”

A smirk curls on Daishou’s face. “Oho? What is this about me being cute again? You never did give me an answer about that the other time.”

Her cheeks instantly flush scarlet, and she ducks her head to avoid his smirking gaze. “That—that’s not my point! My _point_ is that while you're good at managing dead people and hospitality and putting on a display of fireworks, you really need to work on your garden management.”

“Well, that's what I have you for. If you're gonna be trapped here, you might as well make yourself useful,” he teases, approaching her and coming to a stop when they are a mere foot apart.

They go back and forth like this for a while. Mika’s face becomes increasingly red with each teasing remark thrown her away, though she does give as good as she gets and manages to get Daishou’s face feeling warm too. He belts out a laugh when her small fists land on his chest in a flurry of light punches in response to a particularly playful jab, mostly because it tickles.

“Are you making fun of me?” she demands, whacking his chest again.

“Stop it, I'm ticklish there.” He grins at her pout. His heart expands with a flood of emotions he never knew possible, prompting him to reach out and pull her against him, his arms folding around her midriff.

Mika freezes in his hold for a moment, before her hands come to rest hesitantly on his shoulders. “Suguru-kun?”

He leans down to rest his chin on her shoulder and breathes in deeply, wondering if the smell of fresh flowers and honey is from the garden or from her. Ever since the festival, they have gotten more physical with each other—not that he's complaining, of course. Sometimes it’s just him brushing a stray strand of hair out of her face; sometimes it’s her smoothing out the crinkles in the front of his robes. Other times he would reach out to gently trace the back of her hand while they're sitting at the dining table, eating and conversing.

And sometimes, in moments like this when his feelings for her become too much for him to hold on his own, he wraps his arms around her and holds her close to his heart.

Behind her, several bushes catch Daishou’s eye. Reluctantly, he pulls away from the hug and traipses over to that particular patch of bushes. He squats down and surveys the flowers growing on them. Thanks to Mika’s frequent excited rambles about flowers, he is able to recognise the ones blossoming on the bushes. He reaches out and plucks three: a gloxinia, a gardenia, and a tulip. Satisfied with his selection, he rises back to his full height and turns back to Mika.

“You know, you're lucky the flowers have already finished growing, or I would’ve been mad at you for plucking them so carelessly,” Mika huffs.

“I hope this makes up for it, then.” Meticulously, Daishou’s deft fingers weave the flowers into her hair, the gloxinia and gardenia above her left ear and the tulip above the right. Once done, he takes a step back to admire his handiwork. The flowers, already beautiful on the bushes, are stunning when framing her face. His heart, which was previously doing a light jog in his chest, is now running a marathon. “I just…” He swallows, trying to stop staring lest she finds him creepy. “I just thought it was fitting for a goddess of flowers to wear some flowers, that's all. I thought it’d be cute.”

Mika’s eyes are wide, staring up at him in what seems to be surprise. Her pink lips part in a small ‘O’. Daishou tries not to stare too long at her lips, for he fears he might not be able to control himself.

Several moment pass in silence. He starts to wonder if maybe—for some reason he can't think of—he did something wrong, when she waves a hand, and two flowers appear in her hands. He recognises the bluish-purple one as a hydrangea, but he doesn't know what the other white one is. He gestures to it, and she answers his unspoken question.

“This is an ambrosia flower,” she says, averting her gaze for some reason or another. Without elaborating any further, she tucks both flowers into the breast pocket of his robe. Her hands linger on his chest, and he makes no effort to chase them away.

“Thank you,” Daishou says quietly. “These are lovely.”

Mika smiles at him, though he gets the vague sense that there is something strained about it. “I'm glad you think so.”

“Yeah.” Then, another thought occurs to him. “Say, Mika-chan, flowers usually have meanings, don't they? I know mortals like to partake in the act of conveying messages through very specific floral arrangements.”

She nods, but strangely even that lacks her usual exuberance when it comes to the topic of flowers. “They—they do.”

As she explains to him the various messages mortals like to send each other through flowers, as well as specific traditions where the symbolism of different flowers varies, he finds himself so transfixed by her beauty and wealth of knowledge that he doesn't notice the flush draining from her cheeks like someone pulled a plug, or how pale her lips become, or the way her knees start to tremble.

“That's good and all to know,” Daishou says, still clueless. “So tell me, what do the flowers that we've given each other mean?”

“Oh, um…” Mika hacks out several dry coughs, prompting some alarm in him. “Well, a hydrangea symbolises heart—heartfelt…”

Her body sways like a fragile leaf taking on a powerful gust of wind, before her knees give way and she collapses.

“Mika!”

With lightning quick movements, Daishou dives and catches her right before her head hits the ground. One hand supporting her head and the other on her waist, he props her up against him. Now that he's closer to her, he can see the unnatural paleness of her face where there was her usual rosy flush just moments ago. Her breathing is laboured, shallow, like every inhalation and exhalation are no longer reflexes but a conscious effort.

“Shit, Mika, what's wrong?” he demands frantically. Did she not have enough nectar to eat? Not enough sleep? Is one of the flowers he gave her poisonous?

“I—I’m sorry,” she whispers, her voice cracking with effort. “I guess I exerted too much energy when remodelling your place. I’ve been away from Olympus for a while, after all, so my godhood must be weakening.”

Daishou freezes, the realisation hitting him in the gut harder than a blow from a sword. Of course, of _course._ He's an idiot—how did he not realise this earlier? It is the third and most important rule of godhood: do not stay away from your domain for longer than necessary, or risk your godhood fading away. With another jolt, he also realises that she must have been away from Olympus for a long time before he even chanced upon her in that field—that’s why she was unconscious, that’s why her godly aura was so faint.

“Fuck, I never should have brought you here,” he curses, anger pricking his eyes. “I should have just shelved my damn pride and dropped you off at Olympus when I found you. This is all my fault. I'm so terribly sorry, Mika.”

“It’s okay, Suguru-kun…”

“How is it okay?! All thanks to my idiocy, you're suffering. You’re fading away.”

Weakly, she caresses his face. “It’s okay,” she repeats. “I was the one who chose to leave Olympus despite knowing what the rules were. You could have easily left me to fade away in the field and pretended you didn't see me, but instead you gave me a place to stay out of the kindness of your heart. Thanks to your hospitality and the nectar you provided, my godhood has been sustained somewhat. I hate to ask you for more… but can you bring me somewhere more comfortable, please?”

Daishou pulls her even closer, until he can feel her faint heartbeat against his far stronger one, and kisses her forehead. His tears wet her hair. “You don't have to apologise for asking me for anything, ever.”

He rises to his feet and carries her into the palace, up to her room. Along the way, his visibly startled aides offer to take care of her, but he refuses them. It is his fault she’s in this state, so he's going to take responsibility for his actions.

Gently, he lays her on the bed and pulls the covers up to her chest. He slumps down next to her, his heart now aching for different reasons—guilt, worry, rage, self-loathing. On the first day Mika was here, he thought she looked small and vulnerable on this gigantic bed. That is nothing compared to what she looks like now; frail, gaunt, and barely holding on to her lifeline.

Daishou strokes her hair, noticing that even the flowers are beginning to wilt. “I'm sorry. I know there is nothing I can ever do to make up to you. I just—I’m sorry. Perhaps it would have been better if we never met.”

“Better for who?” Mika whispers. Her hands twitch, like she's trying to reach something but is too weak to do so. “Every moment I’ve been here with you, I have never been happier. In fact, I love being here with you. Though it would be nice if I wasn't weak like this, so I could enjoy your company without you crying and beating yourself up.”

Daishou shakes his head. He's sure she’s just saying that to make him feel better, not that it is any use.

“Say, Suguru-kun? I think I have an idea.”

Immediately, his posture straightens. “What is it?”

“I don't really have any concrete, detailed ideas but—you know how I ended up trapped here because I accidentally ate a fruit of the Underworld when I was not of the Underworld? Well… what if I were to _become_ of the Underworld?” Her face scrunches up, as if thinking hard. “Though I'm not sure how I could achieve that. I'm immortal, so I can't die and become your servant or go to the three zones or whatever…”

And it’s like a torch has been lit above Daishou’s head. Of _course,_ the solution has been right beneath his nose all along. He could have solved this problem right from the very first moment she ended up trapped down here. Things didn't have to escalate to this level if he hadn't insisted on being such a moron.

“Mika, I know how you can become of the Underworld.”

“Hm? How?”

Daishou takes her hands and a deep breath, then says, “Marry me, Mika. If you marry me and become my queen, you would become of the Underworld. The fruit wouldn't be able to bind you here. You would be free to leave. You would be free to stay on Olympus to your heart’s content—though you'd probably have to visit once every half-century or so since part of your godhood would be tied here.” He catches the stunned expression on her face, her eyes blown wide and her jaw hanging open, and he hurriedly adds, “I—I mean! I know marriage is, like, a big deal. It’s a heavy commitment to be with someone for the rest of your life, so I understand if you don't want to or if you’re waiting for someone else. I won't force you. It’s completely up to you. I just thought I’d—”

“Yeah, okay!”

Daishou’s nervous babbling screeches to a halt. “What now?”

She giggles. “You're so silly, Suguru-kun. You proposed to me, and I said yes.”

“Oh.” He nods in understanding—but when he actually _understands_ what he just understood, he freezes. “ _Wait,_ so you agreed to marry me?” he demands, incredulous. It’s completely absurd—they haven't known each other all _that_ long, to the best of his estimations since time gets wonky when you're immortal, yet she agreed to spend the rest of her _immortal_ life with him. Does she not realise what a massive commitment that is to someone she has only known for maybe a few months at best?

“Yes, that's what I said. I want to marry you, Suguru-kun. Normally this would be exasperating, but since you're so cute I’ll say it as many times as you want me to.” That teasing remark, however, is followed by a series of dry coughs.

Daishou pats her back, helping to get the rest of the coughs out, before the reality of the situation sinks in. Right, he proposed to her to free her from the Underworld and restore her godhood back to normal. That's all. That is the fact and the matter of the situation, so why is his heart sinking like he has just been dealt the greatest disappointment of his whole life?

“My apologies,” he sighs, despondent. “It’s my fault. You wouldn't be forced to marry me if I didn't trap you down here in the first place, if I had removed the bowl of pomegranates while you were still unconscious, if I hadn't even _brought_ you here in the first place.”

Instantly, her expression sours. She lets go of his hands and turns away from him, as if suddenly becoming unable to stand the sight of him. “Who said anything about _forcing_ me?” she mutters cryptically.

Daishou is pretty sure he isn't meant to hear it, but he does anyway. He stares at her back, bewildered. “Huh? What do you mean?”

He is met with silence. He waits patiently for her to say something, anything, but she doesn't. Sighing, he shifts closer to her, the bed dipping under his weight. “C’mon, Mika, would you please talk to me?”

“What's there to talk about?”

Frustrated, Daishou wrings his hands. “Like—what you said just now! I don't understand what you meant by ‘who said anything about forcing me’.”

She huffs, sounding none too pleased. “Men, so clueless.”

He winces, stung, but he refuses to back down. “Mika, please. I won't leave until you talk to me, so please just throw me a bone here, ‘cause I really have no idea what you're upset about.”

Several more moments of silence lapse, before she finally turns around and addresses him.

“If I didn't accidentally eat the fruit and get myself trapped here, would you still want to marry me?”

Daishou goes stock still, while his heart continues battering against his chest.

_“Would you still want to marry me?”_

A flurry of images flash through his mind: Mika sitting across from him at the dining table, beautiful in her own right; Mika dancing among the twirling and blooming flowers, enchanting in her element; Mika pouting when he teased her, and her laughter when he picked her up and spun her around the several times they spontaneously burst into dance; Mika’s body, soft and warm, pressed against his as fireworks lit up the sky and her eyes.

The answer is clear as a spring morning.

Daishou raises her hand to his lips and kisses it. “Mika, even if I haven't known you all that long, if there is one thing I know for sure it is my feelings for you. Regardless of our present circumstances, all I know is that I want to be yours and you mine. And, honestly speaking, I could spend all the days of my immortal life with you and I would still want more. Call me greedy, but that is the truth. That's how I feel about you. I love you, Mika—no regrets, no take-backs.”

A tear slides down her face. Startled, he reaches out and brushes it away, watching as more tears stream down her cheeks.

“Is—is that what it is?” she mumbles. She presses her face into his hand, and his heart does another swoop.

He gently strokes her tears away. “It is. Does it surprise you?”

She manages a watery chuckle. “I mean, I had a suspicion but I could never be sure. You're really hard to read, you know?”

“How—how so?”

“Like—” She waves her hands vaguely. “—I could never tell if you had feelings for me or if you were just being nice. Like, your teasing, your random touches and hugs, the time you took me to the festival, and the flowers. By gods, Suguru-kun, the _flowers._ I was so happy when you picked those three specific flowers for me, but then I realised it probably wasn't intentional since you didn't even know what they meant in the first place.”

Daishou blinks. “Uh, what _do_ they mean?”

Mika glances down at her lap, a small smile curling at her lips. She plucks the flowers out of her hair and holds each one up as she explains their respective meanings. “Gloxinias represent love at first sight, while giving someone gardenias is as good as telling them ‘I think you're lovely’. They also convey immense joy. Tulips symbolise a declaration of love. So, um, I think you can see where I got the idea that _maybe_ you had some feelings for me. But of course, like I said just now, you didn't know what they meant and probably just picked them at random so…”

Embarrassed, Daishou squirms on the bed. “I guess my feelings were conveyed to you without my intending to. Still, my feelings are the same, whether I knew the meanings behind those flowers or not. What do the ones you gave to me mean?”

“Well, hydrangeas convey heartfelt emotions and gratitude, while ambrosias represent…” She bites her lip, not meeting his eyes. “Requited love.”

The first thought that comes to his mind: _Oh, okay. How cute._

Then he realises she, the patron goddess of flowers, just _explained_ the meaning of the flowers that _she gave to him._

When the realisation finally sinks in, all Daishou can do is stare at her, gobsmacked beyond belief. “Wa—wait a minute. So you didn't say yes to my proposal just because you wanted to restore your godhood, but because…”

“But because I actually _want_ to marry you? Yes, Suguru-kun.” A shaky hand reaches out and grabs his. “I love you. I love you so, so much, more than words or flowers could ever express, Suguru.”

A burst of fireworks go off in his chest. He stares down at her, not daring to believe his ears. “You… you love me,” he repeats hoarsely.

“Dearly,” she confirms, meeting his gaze head-on.

His heart threatens to burst out of his chest, and heat pools in his lower core. “Then—” He swallows thickly, his eyes dipping to her lips. “—may I kiss you?”

Her eyes lower too. “ _Please,_ ” she breathes.

Daishou doesn't wait a second longer. He leans down and captures her lips with his in a tender kiss, one hand cupping her face and the other holding her against him. Her hands curl around the back of his neck. The feeling of her hands anywhere on him and the unbelievable softness of her lips send sparks flying through his body. He wants more, he has been wanting more for a while now, but he goes slowly, taking his time to enjoy the taste of her lips against his.

“More,” she murmurs when they pull away, her eyes half-lidded and hands still gripping him.

Obligingly, he tilts his head and kisses her, deeper this time. Using his thumb, he coaxes her mouth open so he can dip his tongue in, exploring and memorising it. She moans into his mouth, and he tightens his hold on her, closing the already-tiny gap between them so he can push his tongue further in.

The low fire burning in his core gradually reaches new temperatures. He would love to take this even further, but the weakening of her grip around him jarrs him back to the reality of the situation: her body is weak. He forces the fire to die down before pulling away from the kiss, resting his forehead against hers.

“Stay with me,” Mika whispers. “Don't go, please, just for tonight. Uh, unless there’s work that you need to do, of course.”

Daishou presses his lips against the crown of her head, breathing in the fading scent of flowers. “I'm not going anywhere. There is nothing more important than you right now.”

And so, he stays. He stays until she has drifted to sleep in his arms. Her chest rises and falls at disturbingly infrequent intervals, making his heart clench with worry. He leans down to kiss her forehead.

“I promise I'll free you, Mika. I swear it on my godhood.”

 

* * *

  
Cloak billowing behind him, Daishou strides through Olympus with a mission. He hates to leave Mika alone in the Underworld with only his dead servants for company, but this is important. In order for a god to get married, they need to get through a whole load of bureaucratic bullshit. He is here to see if he can't find himself a loophole or a shortcut, as he's sick of having to deal with all this godly red tape.

Olympus hasn't changed all that much since the last time he was here, which must have been half a millennia ago. The most noticeable difference is that the streets are even busier than before, and Olympus has never been a barren field. Minor gods and spirits roam the streets, chatting, exchanging items, and haggling for the best price of nectar at stalls lining the pavements.

When he sweeps by them, some of the younger gods stare at him in awe—since the god of the Underworld rarely visits Olympus—while the older ones who recognise him offer him a word of greeting. He returns a hurried greeting out of courtesy. Normally, he would ask for the names of the gods and spirits he doesn't recognise, except he doesn't have the time now. While maintaining his image as the charismatic and polite lord of the Underworld is important to him, it’s nothing compared to Mika.

Now, there is the rest of Olympus, and then there is the capital where most of the major gods reside. The border is lined with a high gate as far as his eyes can see, and before it is a pair of sentry gods. As he draws nearer, he realises that he unfortunately recognises them. Nevertheless, he wills his pleasant smile to remain on his face.

“Good day to you, Lord Yamamoto and Lord Shibayama,” he greets silkily, bowing at the waist.

“Lord Daishou!” Shibayama gasps. He hastens to return the bow, his face as white as a sheet.

On the other hand, Yamamoto shoots Daishou a poisonous glare. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Daishou’s smile twitches ever so slightly. These two sentries are minor gods working under his bitter rival, Lord Kuroo, and it is evident that Yamamoto shares their boss’s distaste of him.

“I am sorry to have startled you,” he apologises, bowing again. He isn't too proud to bow to a minor god if it benefits his image. Case in point: the minor spirits passing by them are starting to whisper about the “aggressive war-god subordinate” and how the polite and charming god of the Underworld deserves to be treated better. He allows a small smirk to cross his face before replacing it with a fake smile and rising back up to his full height. “I am here to have an audience with their majesties, Lord Sawamura and Lord Sugawara, if I am welcome.”

Yamamoto’s scowl deepens. “You sure as hell are not—”

“I have not visited Olympus in ages, so for me to be here means I have important business I wish to discuss with their majesties. I hope you are not intending on depriving me of the opportunity to have an audience with them?” Daishou makes sure to clasp his hands in front of him, showing he has no hidden intentions, and to make his overall body language as small as possible. Around them, the murmurings grow, seemingly in his favour. “Of course, if they are currently occupied with other even more important matters, I can return another time. It is no bother.”

Shibayama tugs on Yamamoto’s sleeve, as if pleading him. “Please calm down, Tora-senpai. You don't want to make an enemy of Lord Daishou.”

Yamamoto huffs out a resigned sigh. “Yeah, you're right. Kuroo-san already does one hell of a job at it.”

Daishou will never fail to be surprised at the lack of formality with which Kuroo and his underlings address each other. Though, looking at the type of relationship he has with Takachiho, he supposes he is in no position to judge.

“Fine, Lord Daishou,” Yamamoto says through gritted teeth, unlocking and opening the gates, “I’ll show you to the throne room. Stay here, Yuukun, okay? I’ll be back as soon as I’m done with this assh— _Lord Daishou._ ”

“Thank you for your warm hospitality,” Daishou hums. He strides through the gates with Yamamoto right at his heels.

Beyond the gates is a massive palace that sprawls over every acre of land he can see, no matter how he turns his head, making the villas in Elysium look like huts in comparison. Turrets jut so high into the sky it hurts his neck to try and find the peaks. Statues, each well over ten feet tall, of the thirteen major gods line the grounds—Lord Nishinoya the god of the sky and thunder; Lord Sawamura the god of the earth; Lord Sugawara the god of marriage and family; Lord Kageyama the god of the sea; Lord Kuroo the god of war, bloodlust and being a scheming bastard; Lord Kozume the god of wisdom and tactical warfare; Lord Oikawa the god of love, beauty and vanity; Lord Ushijima the god of harvest; Lord Hinata the god of the sun and having one brain cell; Lord Tsukishima the god of the moon and sarcasm; Lord Konoha the jack-of-all trades god; Lord Terushima the god of wine, partying and bad decisions; and lastly, one of Daishou himself. He's pleased to note that they have a statue of him too despite him not staying on Olympus. Kageyama has one too, even though he too prefers staying in his own domain than on Olympus.

Once inside the palace, Yamamoto hisses into Daishou's ear, “Alright, what are you up to? You're here to stir some bullshit again, aren't you?”

“You wound me with these false accusations, Lord Yamamoto. It is important business that I see no reason to discuss with a _minor_ god.”

To Daishou’s satisfaction, Yamamoto’s face turns red. Reminding him of their difference in godly status is an immensely entertaining—and not to mention, effective—way to get under the hotheaded god’s skin. “ _Huh?_ Who the hell are you calling a minor god? I’ll show you minor when I have my sword up your sorry ass!”

Daishou chuckles. The sound of their sandals slapping against the polished marble floors of the palace is music to his ears. “Young, inexperienced gods who are unable to even match me in a friendly spar should not make such bold declarations. For someone who works under the god of war, I thought you would be better in a fight. Even Lord Kuroo can stand on equal footing with me on a good day.”

“Bullshit, you _cheated!_ Also, Kuroo-san can absolutely wreck you in a fight with a blindfold over his eyes and both hands tied behind his back.”

“I would love to see him try. Also, speaking of handicaps, perhaps the next time we spar I should wear those handicaps. Maybe then you would be able to fight on me on equal footing.”

Within a split second, Daishou registers the moment Yamamoto’s scowl of irritation turns into fury, and he braces himself for when Yamamoto lunges at him. He is prepared to meet Yamamoto’s blow with his own when he detects footsteps behind them. Instead of striking back, he changes course and shrinks in on himself, throwing his hands up in surrender and bowing his head.

“What's happening here?” an authoritative baritone demands.

Daishou looks up and thanks his intuition when he spots the two kings of Olympus frowning at Yamamoto with evident disapproval. Upon seeing them, Yamamoto freezes, then hastily takes several steps away from Daishou.

“It’s not what it looks like!” Yamamoto exclaims. “He started it!”

Their majesties Sawamura and Sugawara turn to Daishou with raised eyebrows, to which Daishou responds to with a deep bow.

“My apologies, your majesties. It appears that Lord Yamamoto and I have had a misunderstanding of sorts. I will take care to be more careful with my wording in the future, so it is easier for him to understand what I mean.”

“No worries, Lord Daishou,” King Sugawara says with a warm smile. “Although, Lord Yamamoto, I must ask that you refrain from resorting to violence, especially before either of you have the chance to clear up the misunderstanding.”

Yamamoto grits his teeth, as if battling with an inner conflict, before bowing too. “My apologies, your majesty.”

“What brings you here, Lord Daishou?” King Sawamura asks. “It’s not often we get a visit from you, seeing how busy the Underworld has kept you.”

“Your timing could not have been more impeccable,” Daishou replies smoothly. “I wished to have an audience with the both of your majesties, but it seems that I am unwelcome here.” He throws Yamamoto a deliberate look, which the kings catch.

“Of course you're welcome here. You are one of us, whether you live here on Olympus or in the Underworld.” Sawamura glares at Yamamoto, and the latter shrinks under his intensity. “It must be important if you made a personal trip here all the way from the Underworld. Come, we shall discuss this matter over a cup of tea in the throne room. Lord Yamamoto, thank you for accompanying Lord Daishou. You may return to your post.”

“Actually, King Sawamura,” Daishou interjects, “I would like Lord Yamamoto to be present at our meeting, with your permission, of course.” It would be a great opportunity to bolster his image by making Yamamoto look like an uncouth gremlin, as well as get under Kuroo’s skin through his underling.

Sawamura blinks, but he allows it. Without further ado, the four gods make haste to the throne room.

The throne room, as it turns out, is just at the end of the hallway. With a wave of his hand, Sugawara makes a table, four cushioned thrones, and a tea set appear. They take their spots around the table, the two kings on one side, and Yamamoto and Daishou on the other. In a true motherly manner, Sugawara fusses over them, making sure each one of them has enough tea and scones to eat before helping himself to his own share.

“What is the matter you wish to discuss, Lord Daishou?” Sawamura asks.

Daishou takes a dignified sip of his tea—to contrast the more… barbaric way Yamamoto is stuffing himself with the nectar-filled scones—before diving into a recount of how he met Mika. To make his situation appear more sympathetic to the kings, he exaggerates the feeble state he found Mika in, the dangers the field presented (it was empty except for plants and the goddess at the time, but those are just tiny unimportant details), and the haste with which he brought her to the Underworld. Following that, he explains how she ended up trapped in his domain, which resulted in her godhood weakening with every day she has been away from Olympus.

“Shouldn't you have brought her to Olympus, then?” Sawamura questions, frowning. “This is her home, where her lifeline is tied to.”

Sugawara nods in agreement. “That's right. Surely you considered that she might accidentally eat a fruit of your domain if you brought her there?”

“Unless you planned on kidnapping her and taking advantage of her weakness!” Yamamoto chimes in accusingly. He might sound persuasive enough to sway an especially naive toddler if his mouth isn't presently stuffed to the brim with bread.

Anger thrums through Daishou’s veins at the implication that he would do anything so vile to his beloved Mika-chan, but he keeps it reigned in. He sets his cup down and lowers his head. “Please rest assured that I have done no such thing to Lady Mika. I swear this on my godhood.”

Swearing on one’s godhood is pretty much the most serious oath any god, major or minor, can make, which is why Daishou usually avoids making such binding promises. But Mika, who is weak and fading away with every second that passes by—even fifty oaths sworn on his godhood would not come close to matching how much she means to him. The other gods exchange solemn looks. Even Yamamoto doesn't have anything to say in retort.

“I recognise that I have made a foolish oversight in bringing her to my domain. I was simply afraid that I would cause a ruckus and ignite unpleasant rumours if I were to show up here on Olympus, as your majesties have witnessed earlier.” Daishou shoots Yamamoto another deliberate look, to which Yamamoto responds with a rude gesture under the tablecloth. “I recognise that it is not an excuse for my poor judgement; thus, I accept responsibility for my actions and any punishment you see fit. However, before you decide on my punishment, I would like to propose a solution.”

Sawamura raises his eyebrows. “Let’s hear it.”

Daishou turns to make eye contact with Sugawara. “With your blessing, King Sugawara, I wish to marry Lady Mika and make her my queen. That way, she would be able to come and go from my domain as she pleases. She would be able to return to Olympus to restore her godhood, hence eliminating the risk of her fading away.”

Yamamoto promptly spits out his tea. “Say _whaaat?!_ You're kidding me, right? You kidnap a helpless goddess to your creepy lair, trap her there, and now you want to _marry_ her? Did she even say yes? This is some messed up Stockholm syndrome bullshit.”

“Language, Lord Yamamoto,” Sawamura says sharply. “Also, please refrain from making false accusations. It was not Lord Daishou’s intention to trap her in the Underworld—it was an unfortunate accident.”

Daishou just barely holds back a smirk. He has lost track of the number of points he has won against Yamamoto’s idiocy. “If you really wish to know, Lord Yamamoto,” he adds smoothly, “Lady Mika said yes to my proposal, and with great enthusiasm.”

“Bull—poop,” Yamamoto corrects himself when Sawamura glares at him again.

Sugawara runs a finger down the handle of his teacup. “Hypothetically, yes, I would be able to bless your union with Lady Mika. But I’m sure you know what the standard protocol for marriage is: you would need a clear consensus from the Council of Thirteen—well, Twelve, excluding you. Or Eleven, if Lord Kageyama is unable to make it for the meeting.”

Luckily for him, he is prepared for this particular curveball; while he doesn't doubt his ability to sway a sizeable portion of the Council with his trained silver tongue, he knows Kuroo—and by extension, Kozume—and _his_ way with words could make it challenging for him to obtain a clear consensus.

“About that, King Sugawara.” Daishou leans forward, his hands clasped on the table. “I wonder if you recall the time your majesties said I have one favour from the both of you as thanks for my hard work as the ruler of the Underworld, no questions asked or strings attached.” When they nod warily, he continues, “I would like to cash in this favour now—I want the both of you to allow my marriage to Lady Mika to happen without requiring the mandatory majority vote. She really cannot afford to wait any longer, trapped in the Underworld with her godhood seeping out through her fingers. Please, your majesties, this simple request is all I ask of you.”

In this regard, he envies mortals. Most of them are able to marry whoever they wish to without needing a council of powerful overlords to vote in their favour, as well as travel where they fancy without having to tie their lifeline to any particular location. Such are the woes of godhood. And he knows other gods share these sentiments with him, whether they voice them or not, which is why he hopes with all his heart they would sympathise with him and permit him to have his way.

The kings exchange a silent conversation with a single look, before Sugawara returns his attention to Daishou.

“Are you sure, Lord Daishou? Please consider this carefully. This is the only no-questions-asked and no-strings-attached favour we will be granting you in the entirety of your lifetime. Do you not wish to save this favour for something else?”

Daishou pauses, considering this. It is true—he still has the rest of his life, and who knows what obstacles may come up that may necessitate him using this one favour? When you're immortal, the words ‘the entirety of your lifetime’ take on an immensely daunting meaning.

But then he thinks of Mika—how pale and frail she looked on the bed. Her hands were too weak to even be able to hold on to him, and her lips have grown more and more chapped with each kiss he gave her before departing for Olympus. He thinks of how radiant she looked when she was healthy, how her skin glowed and her eyes sparkled under the shower of multicoloured sparks above them; in the garden surrounded by flowers she made bloom with her own hands; on his throne-turned-loveseat by his side, where he wants her to be for the rest of his eternal life.

The answer is so obvious he doesn't need to consider again.

“I have never been more sure of anything else in my entire life.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the god of the underworld has brain cells for everything but romance...


	4. peony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> peonies symbolise a happy life and marriage, prosperity and good health.

After finishing up his business in Olympus (thankfully the kings have decided against punishing him, citing that it would simply over-complicate matters), Daishou returns to the Underworld, this time with Sugawara and Ushijima in tow. Upon hearing the state Mika was in and that Daishou wanted to marry her, Ushijima invited himself along to see her, as well as to witness the wedding.

Daishou wastes no time taking the stairs up three at a time, not caring if the other two gods can keep up with his pace. He has been gone too long, and he needs to see how Mika is doing, if she is still here or if she has faded away…

He bursts into her bedroom and pauses in the doorway to make sure that yes, she is there. She's seated upright on the bed, but given her feebleness he suspects a servant had to help her into that position. As he draws closer to her, he takes stock of how much paler her skin has gotten. If he returned even a day later, he fears she might have become translucent. Her eyes, however, immediately light up upon spotting him.

“Suguru,” she calls out, her voice faint. She stirs, but Daishou hurries to her side on the bed before she overexerts herself.

He wraps his arms tightly around her and presses a kiss to her lips, which are cold and dry against his. “I'm sorry it took me so long to return to you.” He hates how she feels even smaller in his arms, that he can start to feel the outline of her ribs.

“I'm just happy to see you.” Her hands twitch by her sides, and she sighs, sounding frustrated. “I want to touch you, Suguru, but my strength… The servants said I shouldn't consume too much nectar in my state because they didn't want me to become dependent on it for strength. My godhood is already dependent on Olympus and mortals’ worship—it would be bad to become dependent on nectar too. But still, I want to touch you.”

Daishou’s heart aches. Gently, he takes her hand and guides it to his cheek.

“You're so warm, Suguru,” she murmurs. She inclines her head closer to his. Her lips just barely brush against his cheek, a ghost of a kiss. “You're always so warm. I missed you.”

And she's so cold. Her hand nearly feels like ice against his face. The memory of her warm hands on him flashes through his mind, and a thick lump wells in Daishou’s throat. He holds her closer to him, hoping to transfer as much of his bodily warmth to her as he can. It’s not like he needs it as much as she does.

“I know you two missed each other, but we have a wedding to hold,” Sugawara interrupts, polite as ever. “We shouldn't prolong Lady Mika’s suffering any longer.”

“You're right.” After leaving a kiss on her temple, Daishou gets up from the bed and heads to Sugawara’s side, allowing Ushijima to enter the room.

Mika’s eyes go wide. “Lord Ushijima? What are you doing here?”

“I was told by my subordinate was not feeling well. You should have been more careful. I believe I trained you better than that.” Ushijima, as always, is straight to the point, no fancy embellishments or beating around the bush whatsoever.

Figuring he should leave the two to talk things out (though, knowing Ushijima, he would simply say his piece and promptly move on with business), Daishou gestures for Sugawara to follow him out. Once the door is shut behind him, he finds he can breathe a little easier now.

“She's the only one you're honest to, isn't she?” Sugawara says. His voice holds no accusation or spite; he merely sounds as conversational as always. “You are never this honest on Olympus.”

“I do not understand what you are suggesting, your majesty,” Daishou replies, not looking Sugawara’s way. “Have I not always spoken what exactly is on my mind?”

Sugawara chuckles. “Well, you have a way of going about it. Still, I'm surprised. On Olympus, you sounded so businesslike I got the impression you were only marrying her to free her from the Underworld. But if your reunion earlier was anything to go by, you must really love her.”

“I do.” Daishou smiles. His facade trickles out of his fingers as he thinks of Mika. “It’s absurd, since we’ve barely known each other for more than a handful of months, yet the fact that I am completely heads-over-heels in love with her is the only thing I've ever been so sure of. I don't know how it's possible or how it came about, but it's there all the same.”

Sugawara returns the smile. “Ah, love. Even as gods, we still chase after this notion of love, and we fight to grasp it. We do not fully understand it or how it happens, but in a universe that changes all the time, where even the permanence of our own godhood is not guaranteed, it is the only thing we can ever be sure of.”

Only respect for the king keeps Daishou from staring bewilderedly at him. Last he checked, waxing poetic about the meaning of love was under Oikawa's jurisdiction, not Sugawara's. Either way, deep philosophical discussions about the meaning of life or love have never been Daishou’s favourite topic to talk about over a cup of tea or glass of the strongest booze he has in the Underworld, so he decides to politely excuse himself to prepare for the wedding.

Daishou bustles through the palace, performing final checks on all the preparations. Mika’s gown has already been prepared in his absence, courtesy of his aides, and so has his own wedding garments. The location of the ceremony has been set up too. His servants work fast—he makes a mental note to give them extra vacation weeks to Elysium as thanks for their hard work.

After getting pulling on his tunic and vestment, he heads to the garden, where the ceremony will take place. In a path cleared between two cherry blossom trees, a white carpet with gold trimmings has been rolled out. At the end is a white arch decorated with honeysuckles, roses and peonies, under which stands an altar.

Seated in the front row before the arch is Takachiho, dressed in his finest robes. As Ushijima is acting as Mika’s witness to the wedding, Takachiho is acting as Daishou’s. Even though Daishou was able to bypass the mandatory council vote, the requirement of at least two witnesses who are not the ones being married or the one blessing the marriage was non-negotiable.

Sugawara stands in front of the altar, dressed in a set of flowing white robes and a jade vestment over it. His face is the picture of a strange mixture of serenity and anticipation. He must have blessed countless weddings, yet he seems excited to witness this marriage too. Daishou has to wonder how much the king enjoys his job.

Daishou stands at the head of the carpet and waits for a servant’s signal that Mika is ready. He rubs his sweaty palms on his robes, his heart drumming rapidly against his chest. After all his planning and running around Olympus and making preparations, he can't believe this moment is already upon him. It seems a little too fast, yet it also has never felt so _right._ Somehow, he just _knows_ he could wait six hundred years and he would still choose to marry Mika.

When he spots the thumbs-up from a servant by the window, he briskly makes his way down the aisle. The beating of his heart in his ears is in perfect sync with his footsteps against the velvet carpet.

When he reaches the altar, Sugawara offers him an encouraging smile. No doubt Sugawara has witnessed many nervous grooms on the day of their wedding. Daishou wonders if his reaction is par for the course or if he's being even more of a worrying idiot than the average groom.

He turns around to face the aisle and waits, anticipation building like a slow-burning fire in his core. A wave of sweat coats his palms. While waiting with frayed nerves at the altar for his bride, many questions flicker through his mind: is this the right decision? Is he doing the right thing?

Is she going to show up?

_Don't be stupid, Suguru. Of course she's going to show up. She knows she’d fade away if she doesn't do this. Besides, she said so herself that she want to marry you._

_But what if she doesn't?_

“Relax, Lord Daishou,” Sugawara whispers to him. “She probably just needs a while to walk from her room to here, that's all.”

Daishou nods numbly. With great force, he shoves the worrying to the back of his mind and trains his eyes on the aisle before him. Takachiho shoots him a thumbs-up and a wink—his own way of showing his support, Daishou supposes.

Just as he's starting to think she isn't going to show up after all, he spots Ushijima make the turn around the corner—

—and then Mika.

And in this moment, Daishou is sure he has never seen quite a gorgeous sight before.

Thanks to the godly nectar Sugawara brought from Olympus, some colour has returned to Mika’s face. Though it’s not her usual rosiness, in Daishou’s eyes she is still glowing brighter than the stars, brighter than the fireworks he conjured for her. Her pearly white gown, held up by thin straps and with a low neckline, flows past her ankles. A circlet of silver beads that match the ones at the waistline sits around her head. Daishou flounders for words to describe her, for ‘beautiful’ would be an understatement. Breathtaking, perhaps. Enchanting. _Otherworldly._

They make eye contact from opposite ends of the garden. A lump wells up in his throat, and his vision blurs despite willing himself to keep his emotions in check.

 _I truly am not worthy of her,_ he thinks to himself as he watches her glide down the aisle to him. Rapidly, he blinks the tears away so he can admire her in all her radiant beauty. _Gods almighty, I love her._

She stops before him. She exchanges a nod with Ushijima, who Daishou just notices is behind her, before turning to Daishou with a smile. Tearily, he returns it.

“Suguru-kun, I can't believe you're crying already,” Mika teases, though her eyes are looking unusually bright too.

Daishou glances down, embarrassed. “Don't blame a god for getting emotional when he sees his beautiful bride walk down the aisle to him.”

Sugawara clears his throat, reminding them that they're in the middle of a ceremony and not tucked away in a private part of the palace. “Now, if you two will please clasp each other’s hands and recite your vows. Lord Daishou, you first.”

Daishou nods shakily, then takes Mika’s soft hands in his. They're slightly warmer than they were before, but he knows it’s only a temporary effect thanks to the nectar. He needs to make this fast. Taking a deep breath, he begins reciting his vows. As he vows to love, respect and cherish Mika and Mika alone for the rest of eternity, an iridescent aura intertwines between and around their hands, joining their fates together.

When he's done with his vows, Mika recites hers. The glow around their joined hands grows stronger, becoming almost blinding to look at. Daishou brings his attention from their hands to her face. A blush rises in her cheeks as she describes how and why she has fallen in love with him, and how she too vows to stay with him through all good and bad times, as well as to love him with all of her heart, mind, and soul for the rest of her eternal life.

Daishou would be a liar if he said he didn't shed just a tiny tear during her vows. Or maybe three of them. Okay, perhaps a small waterfall of tears flooded down his face while listening to her vows.

“Now that the both of you have vowed to devote the rest of your lives to each other,” Sugawara says, raising his hand to bless their vows, “Lord Daishou, you may now kiss your bride.”

No need to tell him twice. Still holding her hands, he leans down and kisses her, thus sealing their marriage. A sweet, chaste kiss, but nonetheless filled with love and passion. He can feel the iridescent glow surround them, wrapping them in its warm embrace, before it gradually starts to ebb away.

They draw away from the kiss, and Daishou barely hears Sugawara announcing them husband and wife as well as a smattering of applause from their witnesses before he goes in for another one. He releases her hands and wraps his around her waist, drawing her closer so he can kiss her deeper. She lets out a soft keen into his mouth—but before the kiss get any more heated, Sugawara clears his throat once more behind them.

“Um, the rest of us are still here,” he reminds them with an apologetic smile.

“We must not delay Lady Mika’s return to Olympus any longer,” Ushijima says, businesslike as always. “The nectar is only a temporary source of strength. Now that she is no longer trapped here, she needs to make haste to Olympus and renew her godhood at the capital.”

Daishou lets out a small sigh—he _really_ wants to kiss his Mika-chan right now—but acquiesces. “I’ll show you to the entrance, then.”

He takes her hand and leads the party out of the palace grounds. Still, there is an extra spring in his step as he leads them past the zone of the indifferent dead, the Stygian Marsh and the river Phlegethon. Nohebi, curled around a large boulder before the entrance, raises his three heads at them appraisingly.

“Down, boy,” Daishou says, reaching up to rub the head closest to him. He turns to Mika, and there's a strange feeling welling up in him. She's free now. She is free to leave the Underworld, so he should be happy for her. And he _is,_ yet there is another feeling battling that happiness.

He doesn't realise what it is until her hand leaves his.

It’s fear. Fear of watching someone who has come to mean the entire universe to him walk away from him.

Quickly, before she disappears through the entrance, he grabs her and pulls her into a final kiss.

“I mean, I'm not, like, forcing you or anything,” he murmurs. He buries his face against her shoulder, not daring to look at her. “If you'd rather stay on Olympus and only visit to renew your godhood—”

“Stop. Don't complete that sentence.” Mika gently nudges his face off her shoulder and cups it, making him look at her. “I'm coming back to you, I promise. I swear on my godhood, Suguru, I _will_ return to you. I'm just leaving for a bit to renew my ties to Olympus and say hi to my friends. I've missed them dearly. I’ll be back before you know it, and then—” Her voice dips. She tiptoes, her breath brushing against his ear. “—we can have our honeymoon.”

Heat pools in Daishou’s stomach. “I’ll be looking forward to it, then.”

He kisses her again, then lets her go. She hurries to join Sugawara and Ushijima—both of whom have politely averted their gazes—at the entrance. She offers him a smile and a wave, which he returns with bittersweetness gnawing at him.

He stays, watching her figure grow smaller and fainter into the distance, until she has completely disappeared.

 

* * *

 

Daishou never realised how slow time passes until he is stuck waiting for his beloved to return to him. However, even without Mika around, he still needs to keep the Underworld in a somewhat functioning state. He will not let Mika return home only to see that things have fallen into disarray. Hence, he attacks his ever-so high pile of paperwork with a renewed vengeance.

A man who was the head of an organised crime syndicate and forcibly groomed his unwilling son to be his successor? Definitely Punishment; he is sentenced to an eternity of having his eyeballs scrubbed viciously with the waters of Phlegethon. A young woman who sacrificed her freedom and happiness for her whole life to take care of her siblings after their parents died? Elysium. May she enjoy eternity partying with fellow heroes, playing beach volleyball and getting all the free manicures she wants. An elderly person who lived a quiet, unremarkable life and died of old age? Asphodel, where they will, uh, drift around aimlessly, neither suffering nor enjoying themselves.

He has never blazed through the endless bureaucratic forms and documents, or the countless souls that are queuing up to be sorted, with this much efficiency in a while now. It’s like time will pass by faster if he gets through his work quicker.

When mid-afternoon rolls around, Takachiho enters the throne room and presents Daishou with a suspiciously innocent-looking brown package.

“It’s a wedding gift from Olympus, boss,” Takachiho explains cheerily. “Since most of the Council weren't invited to the wedding, they decided to send their well wishes. Though, I must say, the delivery spirit got rather frightened by Nohebi. His middle head nearly ate the package while the left and right ones hissed and flexed their fangs at her, all intimidating-like. Shouldn't you perhaps consider getting a friendlier guardian pet?”

Daishou snorts. “Firstly, I'm pretty sure you don't use the word ‘flex’ in that context—”

“Boss, I mean this with the utmost reverence when I say that you're really bad at keeping up with new lingo. Nohebi was showing off his many fangs, thus _flexing_ them. Though, I have to say, it was a rather weird flex but okay.”

Daishou shakes his head. He has resigned himself to never understanding the strange futuristic-sounding vernacular Takachiho is so fond of. “ _Secondly,_ ” he continues pointedly, “getting a friendlier guardian pet would ruin the point of _having_ a guardian of the Underworld in the first place.”

“Didn't your beloved Mika-chan suggest getting a dog? What do you think about getting a three-headed golden retriever?”

“My beloved Mika-chan is sweet and adorable, but she's not very good at the whole ‘dark and intimidating’ thing. Also, are you kidding me? Golden retrievers make the _worst_ guard dogs. They're too friendly. They would end up welcoming all sorts of souls here, instead of scaring away the ones who aren't supposed to be here.” There are reasons why Daishou permits golden retrievers into Elysium, but bravely protecting their masters is not one of them. “Thirdly, if Nohebi wanted to eat that package, there must have been a good reason why.”

With a sigh, Daishou receives the package from Takachiho anyway and opens it. The first thing he sees is a roll of parchment, which reads:

_‘Lord Daishou,_

_Wow, I can't believe you got married to the lovely Mika-chan and didn't invite me, your dearest friend. Rude. You're not invited to MY wedding—oh wait, I already AM married, and have been married and getting laid far longer than you have, snake-chan._

_Hurt her, and I will personally dethrone you as ruler of the Underworld and toss you into the worst that the Fields of Punishment have to offer. What method of torture have you not done yet? Hmm, maybe I’d make you watch all the porn Olympus has to offer but no matter how close you are you'd never be able to finish._

_Anyway, enjoy the finest Olympus wine I have procured specially for you, seeing as you like staying in your dingy little Underworld too much like some loser to bother visiting. Also, you really should visit—Shrimpy keeps insisting that it's his turn on the ‘long lost cousin’ role, which, may I remind you, you've been hogging for the past century, and I kinda wanna watch the both of you throw down for the role._

_Lots of love,_

_Kuroo.’_

Daishou snorts. He crumples the note up and burns it to ash, before noticing something else in the package: a thin vial of suspiciously clear liquid. He uncorks it and takes a sniff of it. On the surface, it certainly _smells_ like alcohol, but there's an undercurrent of something else—a curse, he realises. More specifically, a curse that causes erectile dysfunction. Tch, how typically petty of Kuroo. Still, he doesn't want to discard this ‘gift’ just yet. In fact… he glances into his sphere of Punishment, an idea taking root in his mind. He shelves the ‘alcohol’, keeping it there for future, ah, _reference_ should he run out of ideas to punish sinful mortals.

He is about to return to the last of his paperwork when he _feels_ a new presence make itself known in the Underworld. He sits, stock still, as the presence grows stronger, as if drawing closer to his palace. An image of flowers flashes through his mind, and before he knows it he's on his feet, bolting out of his throne room and to the entrance.

He flings the door open and is greeted by the sight of Mika, his wife (wow, he really could get used to calling her his wife now), humming as she makes roses bloom on the porch. Her skin is no longer on the brink of becoming see-through, but is now glowing with her usual radiance. Her lips are full and pink, and her eyes bright and lively once more. She was beautiful when they met, beautiful when she was fading away, and is still beautiful now.

“Mika, my love,” he whispers. All other words fail him, leaving him gawking at his wife (his _wife!_ ).

“Good afternoon, Suguru-kun,” she says, grinning up at him. “Told you I’d be back before you know it.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “You're right.”

And that's all he says before he swoops forward, sweeping her off her feet and bringing her into a desperate, longing kiss, which she returns with glee. Her hands tangle in his hair and her legs hook around his waist, shifting her weight comfortably on him.

Daishou steps back into the palace and kicks the door shut behind him, before spinning around and pressing Mika against it. His lips latch on to the side of her neck, and he relishes the taste of her soft sweet skin against his tongue. She lets out soft mewls of his name as he continues his trail of gentle kisses down to her shoulder, pushing the strap of her dress aside for better access.

Her fingers tighten around the back of his head. “Su—Suguru,” she pants into his ear. “Let’s take this upstairs, shall we?”

“As you wish,” he hums against her neck. He pulls away and, still carrying her, brings her up to his bedroom on the third floor—now _their_ bedroom—and deposits her gently on the bed on her back. Carefully easing her legs apart with his knee, he settles down between them. He resumes his onslaught of kisses on her neck, as she grips his back and gasps his name underneath him.

“What do you want, love?” he murmurs between kisses. He draws himself back up so he can see what kind of face she's making. He isn't disappointed—her cheeks are flushed, her eyes half-lidded and gazing up at him through her dark eyelashes.

“I—I want you, Suguru,” she whispers.

Heat stirs in his core at her words. “Is that what you want?”

She nods empathetically. “Please. I need you—I love you, Suguru. I want you,” she repeats.

His heart swells, filling him with a warmth he only gets when he's around her. He dips down to kiss her on her lips this time, and he takes his time to savour the soft plushness of her lips, a warm contrast to the cold chapped ones he kissed just days ago.

“And I told you, I’d do anything for you.”

And then, closing every single gap between them, he indulges them both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the inspiration for mika's wedding dress is the first dress on [this website.](https://greenweddingshoes.com/the-gossamer-collection-from-anna-campbell/)


	5. yellow iris

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yellow iris symbolise passion, which is uh,,, pretty much what happens here. no plot, just sex.

“I—I want you, Suguru,” Mika murmurs, gazing up at Suguru.

The way Suguru’s eyes survey her makes goosebumps erupt all over her body. Underneath him, at his mercy, she has never felt more vulnerable, yet also safe and loved.

And when he lowers himself onto her, kisses her, and whispers huskily, “And I told you, I’d do anything for you”, she is sure that she made the right choice when she said yes.

This time, his lips latch onto the juncture between her neck and shoulder, and his hands travel down to hitch her dress up past her hips. Cool air hits her now exposed thighs, but that doesn't bother her when she has his lips working magic on her skin. Her hands grasp at his broad shoulders, desperately trying to pull him closer to close whatever nonexistent gap left between them. 

After leaving a final gentle bite on her shoulder, Suguru draws himself up. He tugs her legs higher up around his waist and pulls her down closer to him. She gasps when she feels something hard pressed against the wetness between her legs, and she feels the hardness stiffen even more as he peels her dress and undergarments off her, flinging them on to the floor.

“Gods, Mika-chan,” he groans. He stares down at her body in awe, like she's the most precious gem he has ever seen. “You’re just… absolutely beautiful. You were beautiful with the dress on, but honestly you can leave it off all you want.” 

She isn't a stranger to his praise and flirting, yet each time he does he never fails to make her blush and squirm.

Carefully, he runs a large hand down the curve of her waist, and she shivers against his touch. Encouraged, he smooths his hands all over her torso, as if trying to satisfy a hunger for every patch of her skin. She whimpers when his hands gently grasp her breasts. While this is nowhere near her first time doing anything like this, this is the first time in a long while anyone has ever touched her with such love and awe. She doesn't want him to stop, ever.

As much as Mika is enjoying the attention he's giving her, she doesn't think it is fair that she's the only one undressed. Insistently, she tugs at them hem of his tunic until he gets the idea.

With a chuckle, he retracts his hands from her body and lifts his tunic off his body. Her throat goes dry when she sees what he has been hiding underneath the cloth. His body is sculpted to absolute perfection, boasting of tight defined lines and hard planes of muscles. Breathless and extremely aroused, she skims her hands across his torso. She takes her time to appreciate the toned abs and pecs, before shifting her attention to his arms. Gods, she has a weakness for well-toned arms and Suguru sure as hell  _ delivers. _ Knowing that these are the same arms that have held her and made her feel safe and warm on so many occasions floods her with another wave of affection and arousal. She runs her hands slowly down his arms, starting from his shoulders, to his biceps (her hands don't even fit around them), and down to his forearms. 

“See something you like, Mika-chan?” Suguru groans above her.

Mika blushes and nods shyly. “Very much. You are…  _ really _ defined.”

His lips form a smirk. “All for you, love. But that's enough about me. How about I make you feel good now?”

She shivers at his words. He bends down and captures her lips in a deep kiss. As he's working his tongue into her mouth, he balances himself on one hand while the other wraps around her breast. She whimpers into his mouth when his thumb rubs lazy circles into her nipple, making it harden in the cool air.

He pulls away from the kiss, only to lower his head to her chest. Just as she realises what he's about to do, his warm lips close around her breast, and this time she cries out his name. Gently yet also firmly, he sucks on her breast, and his tongue swirls around her nipple, as if teasing her. Jolts of pleasure rock through her body. She writhes underneath him and arches her body upwards to press more of her breast into his mouth, her hips grinding into his chest with need. He smirks against her breast, which serves to make her feel even hotter.

“Don't—don’t stop,” she pleads. She grips his back tightly, feeling the muscles working as he shifts his ministrations to her other breast. His hand massages the breast he just ravished with his tongue. Her wetness leaking onto the bedsheets increases exponentially with every touch and lick he gives her. Gods almighty, he really is skilled at this.

Suguru plants a final kiss on her breast before pulling away. To her satisfaction, his face is flushed too.

“As much as I love your breasts, I want to move on to dessert now,” he says, still with that cheeky smirk on his face.

Mika rolls her eyes at the clichéd line, but that line of thought is abruptly cut off when he draws back and hunches down between her legs, lifting them over his shoulders and dragging her hips closer to his face. Her eyes widen as she takes in the sight before her—Suguru’s handsome face  _ between her legs, _ his hands squeezing her thighs. This god is going to be the end of her in the best way possible.

He tilts his head, leaving a trail of teasingly light kisses on her inner thighs. All the while, he maintains eye contact with her. Even with his mouth currently occupied, she can see the self-satisfied smirk in his eyes. Another wave of wetness pools between her legs. And when his teeth sink lightly into the skin between her thigh and pelvis, she lets out a harsh whimper of his name.

“You like this, Mika-chan?” Suguru hums against her thigh. 

Mika nods desperately, thinking if she gives some kind of enthusiastic response he’ll continue. 

“Is that so? Then… how about when I do this?”

She's about to ask what ‘this’ is when he lowers his head, and his tongue flicks against her clit, too fast. A quick bolt of pleasure zips through her, but it tempers down when he stops.

“Suguru…” she begs.

He smirks. He's clearly enjoying riling her up too much. “Was that good?”

She nods breathlessly. “ _P_ _ lease. _ Don't stop.”

“Your wish is my command.” With that, he shifts his face closer, and his lips close around her clit. 

This time, she cries out his name when he starts sucking gently on her clit. His tongue flicks out to slick up her spot, sending waves of unbridled pleasure rollicking through her body. His hands wrap around her thighs and pull her harder against his mouth for better access. Her hips twitch against his face, and she battles with the desire to grind her clit into his mouth. When he gives her hips several tugs, she gives in to the urges and starts riding his face, while her hands end up tangled in his hair.

Just as she's starting to think there is no way this can get any better, one finger pokes into her opening. She moans his name when he stretches her with his finger, pushing it in gently before inserting another one, and she gasps when both fingers bury themselves knuckle-deep in her. His fingers are longer and thicker than hers, so the stretch is more than what she's used to in a while. And when his fingers start thrusting in and out of her, stretching her, she knows she's done for.

Her body arches off the soft mattress and her head hits the pillow in exhilaration. The constant waves of pleasure from his mouth and fingers simultaneously is too much, causing the coil in her lower core to tighten and tighten until she can't take it anymore. She screams his name as her climax hits her, and he continues sucking her clit and fingering her hard as she rides out her orgasm.

Gradually, the waves die down. Mika sinks down onto the mattress, feeling more satisfied than she has been in a long time. Suguru pulls his fingers out of her and lifts his head up, revealing the mess she has made of his hair. He wipes the back of his hand against his mouth—which she notices with some embarrassment is covered with her wetness—and pops a soaked finger into his mouth. She didn't think it was possible, but watching him suck her slick off his fingers makes something inside her stir. She knows they're not done yet, and eyeing the tent in his pants she doesn't want them to be done just yet.

“Come on, open your mouth, baby,” Suguru murmurs.

She obliges, and he pushes his other wet finger into her mouth. If she weren't still so aroused right now, it would be kind of weird tasting herself. But the look on his face and the lust in his eyes are more than satisfactory. A mischievous idea crosses her mind. As she peers up at him through her eyelashes, she hollows her cheeks around his finger and starts sucking harder.

“Gods, fuck,” Suguru groans. His cock hardens even more against her. “There are so many things I want you to do with your mouth right now.”

Mika raises her eyebrows at him questioningly. In response, he tugs his finger out of her mouth and pushes his pants and undergarments down, and they join the messy pile of her clothes on the floor. She stares, fascinated, at his manhood. It’s a little longer and girthier than what she's used to, but she believes she can handle it.

She pushes him back into a sitting position before scrambling on to her knees facing him. Experimentally, she runs a finger down his length, eliciting a hiss from him.

“Is that good?”

“Extremely,” Suguru groans. “Try not to overdo it, though. I don't want to finish too soon.”

“Then let me know when you're close.”

When he nods, she decides to get down to business. After pushing her hair behind her ears, she dips her head down and presses a gentle kiss to the head, which is already leaking with pre-come. The kiss is as light as a feather, yet he’s already letting out low moans. His hands rest on her head, as if he wants to push it down further. She takes the head into her mouth, and she relishes the salty taste of pre-come, before pushing her lips down further. More groans of her name escape him, and his fingers tighten in her hair, like he's just barely holding himself back from shoving the rest of his length into her mouth. 

She goes slowly, until she has most of his hardness in her mouth. She hollows her cheeks around him like she did with his finger, and his cock twitches in response. Wordless moans and hisses escape him in an endless stream as she sucks on his length, licking him with longer and harder strokes spurred on by the sounds he's making. She enjoyed what he did to her earlier, but there is also plenty of pleasure she’s deriving from making  _ him _ feel good too.

Briefly, Mika wonders if she can take him in her throat, and she's about to try when his hand gently lifts her face up from his lap.

“I almost came,” Suguru explains sheepishly. He leans down to kiss the soreness in her jaw away. “Gods, Mika, you're incredible. Maybe next time… but as of right now, I want to finish somewhere else.”

She blushes at his words. Thankfully, blowing him and hearing him moan has made her wet again, so taking him inside her shouldn't be too difficult. 

He pulls her into a brief but nonetheless heated kiss, before murmuring, “On your hands and knees, please, love.”

A thrill ignites her lower core. After centuries of having subpar missionary sex with other gods who could never dream of making her feel the way Suguru does, taking him from behind sounds exciting. Obediently, she turns around and lowers herself onto her hands and knees, arching her back and presenting her behind to him. 

The bed dips with his weight behind her. His hands roam her hips as he lines himself up to her, then slowly he pushes himself in. The immediate stretch feels a little strange, but not painful thanks to Suguru’s fingers earlier. She moans when more of him enters her, and she grips the bedsheets hard under her. Gods, he's even bigger than he looks. When his hips meet her ass, his full length inside her now, they both let out a moan of satisfaction.

“How are you feeling, Mika?” he groans. 

“You're bigger than what I'm used to, but I can handle it,” she replies. “Just give me a bit to adjust—it’s been a while since I've done anything like this.”

His cock twitches inside her, as if pleased. While she adjusts herself to his size, he bends down over her, his arms on either side of her, as he peppers kisses down her back. She whimpers, loving how vulnerable she feels at his mercy. His mouth traces the line down her back and the curve of her waist, igniting a trail of fiery pleasure. 

“Okay, you can start now,” she whispers.

Suguru kisses her spine, leaving a small bite there, before drawing himself back up. Slowly, he pulls himself nearly all the way out and pushes back in, filling her up once more. He keeps up this measured pace for a few more strokes, before she starts whining for him to go harder and faster.

His grip on her hips tighten as his pace rapidly increases, forcing a stream of moans from her. He draws his hips nearly all the way out before sharply slamming his entire length back into her, and all she can do is scrabble at the bedsheets and moan her pleasure under his control. Her breasts bounce back and forth in tandem with his thrusts, the hard nipples rubbing against the sheets. Her hands are starting to weaken under his relentless thrusts, so she lowers herself onto her elbows and arches her ass up higher for him. A pleased groan escapes him, and he rewards her with an especially hard slam and his fingers tapping against her clit, making her scream his name to the heavens.

“Shit—Mika,” he growls, each word punctuated by a hard ram into her. “You're so—fucking good. So tight, so warm. The view is great too. Do you have any idea how fucking gorgeous you are?”

Mika’s cheeks heat up even more. No doubt that the sight of her body bent over in front of him, her back exposed and ass in the air for his taking would be pleasing to him. This feeling—she feels powerful and sexy. She loves this, loves the fact that she's the one making him feel this good, and loves the praise he keeps dishing out to her. 

The lewd sounds of his length constantly slamming into her and their moans fill the room. She tugs hard at the sheets as she feels her body being forcefully moved back and forth with each thrust. Her climax is quickly encroaching on her, and she needs to let him know.

“Suguru-kun,” she moans. “I—I’m close. Like— _ oh fuck _ —like, _ really _ close.”

“Come for me, babe,” he growls. His pace quickens even more, his hips snapping forwards to meet her ass every time he buries his length inside her. “I want to feel you come on me.”

And so, she does. She rolls her hips backwards to meet his, desperately trying to take in as much of him as possible, before her orgasm finally hits her. She tosses her head back, her eyes screwed shut, as she screams his name so loud she's sure Olympus can hear her. Suguru wraps his arms around her waist, holding her spasming body up, and continues fucking her through her orgasm. His pace is as unrelenting as ever.

As she feels the last of her orgasm leave her, Suguru lets out a harsh groan of her name, alerting her to his impending climax. Keeping a tight hold on her hips, he rams into her once, twice and thrice, before shoving his entire length inside her and releasing. 

She all but melts into the mattress as he crashes down beside her. He turns her over, meeting her with a slow, gentle kiss. The kiss is a welcome contrast to the hot and almost animalistic nature of their earlier actions. 

Now that their arousal has died down, the stickiness of the sheets underneath them is starting to bother her. As if hearing her thoughts, Suguru waves a hand, and sure enough the sheets are now dry as if they weren't just having sex.

“How was that, Mika-chan?” he asks.

She kisses the tip of his nose. “Lovely. Absolutely flawless.”

“I'm glad.” Suguru smiles at her, unabashed, boyish, and charming. “I enjoyed myself too. You are perfect, love. Gods, I’m so lucky. However,” he adds, his voice lowering, “I feel like there were  _ more  _ things we could do if it weren't for me not wanting to finish too soon. Oh well—” His mouth forms a smirk. “—looks like we’ll have to do this more often and experiment with different things.”

She giggles and shifts closer to him, nestling her head against his chest. His arms immediately wrap around her waist like it’s now an instinct. “You just want sex, don't you?”

“Why would I not? My lovely wife is, if you'll forgive the pun, a goddess in bed. To not capitalise on this fine opportunity would be a waste. I mean, only if you're up for it, of course.”

“Your performance today was pleasing, so I’ll have to consider your proposal,” she teases. “But for tonight…”  A yawn escapes her. “The sex was really stimulating, so I think… I think I'm going to crash.”

Suguru’s deep chuckle reverberates through her body, which is followed by a yawn of his own. His lips press against the crown of her head, and he murmurs, “Very well, then. Goodnight, Mika. I love you.”

Mika’s heart warms, flooding her with a fresh wave of love and affection for her husband. She gently kisses his jaw and replies, “I love you too, Suguru-kun.”

Soon, quiet snores escape from Suguru. She lays there in his arms, slowly drifting between consciousness and unconsciousness, and not for the first time she finds herself grateful for the day she left Olympus and was discovered by him in the field.

_ You're wrong, Suguru. I'm the lucky one. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> daishou's bad at romance so the least he could do is be good in bed lmao. ~~he may be a dick but at least he's also good with his dick haha whyamilikthis~~
> 
> also, this will most likely be the last haikyuu!! fic i post in a while. i'm returning to school soon, and that means less time to write. plus, i recently got into _'run with the wind'_ , and so i'm working on a long-ish fic for it. i will return to this AU eventually, but for now my attention will be elsewhere. meanwhile, if anyone wants to chat, i'm fairly active on tumblr. : D

**Author's Note:**

> if anyone needs a visual representation of what the underworld looks like, i hope [this google slide](https://docs.google.com/presentation/d/1-5fcem3B3hoepJ5IA_lALa0USqJUISXCHduBjH0x2q4/edit?usp=sharing) helps. it's a crude map made using the powers of powerpoint and photoshop but at least it gets the work done.
> 
> hmu on [tumblr](https://hqissodelicate.tumblr.com/).
> 
> thanks for reading!


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